


learning the blade

by tobeflyhaikyuu



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-07-18 17:44:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeflyhaikyuu/pseuds/tobeflyhaikyuu
Summary: Roman Kastler is a counterfeiter. And he wants learn how to make blades, swords, seeking the one he deems to be the best blacksmith - Logan Anasiest - to be his teacher. When he meets the man's other apprentice, Virgil, he finds himself questioning more than his morality.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> i love writing this fic so much

“Beautiful, is it not?” The inquiring words echoed in Roman’s ears, being made by himself to himself.

The masterpiece in front of Roman, what he referred to with the question, was product of his own blood and sweat. At least… a third of it. The concept, color choosing, poses and pretty much everything was thought of by a famous artist. Roman just copied their work on his own canvas, in hopes of selling it as the original thing.

“You,” Roman picked up the canvas by the back, so as to not smudge the paint, “will be worth all the money in the world. Or else I have lost weeks of my life for nothing.”

In his little house, Roman didn’t have much - it was a one bedroom place, with an adjacent kitchen and bathroom, and that was it. One whole and tiny floor’s worth of the edge of poverty. It was enough to live by… just not enough for Roman and his extravagant taste. And he had been residing there for three years, hoping to get money with his honest job to move out. But working as a newspaper boy could only get him so much, and it was far from what Roman wanted to do for the rest of his life.

With the painting in hands, he walked the dark and dimly lit streets at late hours. He had a warehouse rented for the next month or so, and that’s where he put all his - copied - work so it couldn’t be found in his apartment. The newest painting would stay there for the night, before Roman moved it to the site of the underground auction he was a part of. Being nearshore, the warehouse and its surrounding territory had the cold air hanging around during nights. Roman purred and shook in response to it, cursing himself for figuring he wouldn’t need a coat going out. Even though experience told him other way, Roman never put on a goddamn coat.

“This is it?” The organizer of the event inquired, looking at the piece in his hands, with something that could be labeled as disdain.

“Well, yes.” Roman stood his ground, annoyance building up.

They squint their eyes at him, twisting his lips as they thought before using their free hand to adjust the collar of their snow white shirt. “Fine. It’s going in the auction. But I must say, this is hardly one of your best works.”

Taking this with offense, Roman yelled after the organizer who was walking away the canvas. “HEY! I spent weeks working on it!”

With a sigh, he directed himself towards the audience, dragging his feet he did so. He took a seat at an empty table, praying no one chatty would sit with him during the event. The last thing he wanted from that evening was having to endure small talk.

The actual auction began fifteen minutes later. As the venue got more crowded, Roman’s anxiety grew. Maybe the organizer was right, maybe that painting wasn’t good enough to be auctioned. He did work weeks on it, but there was definitely something off about it, like a piece was missing. You could argue that, since it is a counterfeit, obviously it would lack many things. But this situation was different. Roman’s copies were always perfect, exact ones.

This time he was paranoid that an arm was a little bit thinner than the other, or that maybe the heads weren’t as close as they should be. Maybe the tones of blue were different, perhaps there were so many missteps he took in the process of painting that anyone would instantly be able to tell it was a fake, even those who looked at it from the farthest distance.

His worries weren’t lessened for quite some time. The piece was practically the last one to be auctioned. And nobody said a bad word about it, earning them a discreet sigh, followed by a pleased smile from the artist.

The actual last piece up for bidding was a sword. A rather unusual work to be displayed and sold at an auction but if you really looked at it… Nobody could deny it was art and worthy of being fought over.

Its handle seemed like gold. The color sh9’r through a dark brown lace that surrounded most of its body. The top of the handle had three points - two to the sides, which curled down in a perfect semi circle, and one towards the blade, which flattened and blended with the silver from the blade.

A sword so simple and elegant. No extravagance, but simply mesmerizing. Roman felt himself drawn to it, experiencing the desire to possess it.

Except… he didn’t have the money.

The bidding started at one thousand pieces of gold. It ended at fifty thousand. A lady with a hood and black boots was the winner. Roman half expected her to be an assassin of some kind, and it was mainly the reason he did not try to negotiate with her for the beautiful sword.

While the guests left, Roman remained at his seat, watching as the scenery in front of him dissolved. The candles around the venue were being put out, one by one, by the employees and Roman just sat to watch it. The tables were being retracted, chairs piled up, space being emptied. Roman barely ever blinked.

Soon enough, the organizer approach him. They stared down at the pensive man, who barely registered their presence at all.

“You must need to leave, Roman.”

It took him a moment to reply. “Who was the maker of that sword?”

“You mean the original artisan or the counterfeiter?” They inquired, arms crossed over their chest.

“Original artisan.” Roman stood up, grabbing them by the arms to emphasize his own urgency. “What is their name?!”

“I was told a blacksmith named Logan Anasiest made the original sword.” The organizer spilled as Roman let of of them. “I do not know where you could find them.”

“The name is enough for me.” Roman smirked, a plan forming in his mind. “I might be gone for a while.”

“Do as you wish.” The organizer pulled something from inside their blue blazer. It was a stack of cash, the amount that Roman’s painting was sold for. “And do not forget this.”

With that warm goodbye in mind, Roman was finally staring at his future with extra optimism. He would do as he wished, and find that blacksmith to learn from them. Because that had been the most striking sword Roman had ever seen, and he knew, first hand, that he could make a lot of money replicating and selling that sort of work.


	2. a straight roman is the funniest joke ever

Virgil had been heating up metal when he heard a knock on the door. The sound was short and coming at the end of the night, mildly threatening. His instincts were always to wait for Logan to open the door before going to greet whoever was outside. But as he searched around the shop, he couldn’t find his master anywhere.

“Logan?” He called out, still holding the tool over the fire.

“Yes?” His master replied, appearing by the doorway that lead to his office.

“Someone is at the door.” Virgil shrugged, rubbing his shoulder against his cheek to dry away the sweat. “I would get it but-“

“I understand.” Logan stepped out from the room and towards the door without much hurry.

Whoever was outside knocked twice more before Logan got to their aid. The impatience did nothing to appease Virgil, who already imagine the worst would happen once Logan let the stranger inside.

“Is this Logan Anasiest’s shop?” He heard a man say, with a heavily accented and articulate voice, as he himself reached for a mold resting on the counter next to him.

“You are talking to him.” Logan answered as Virgil took put the melting metal on the mold. “What do you wish from me?”

“I had the pleasure to see a sword you made, recently.” Virgil started walking towards the conversation once he finished pouring the metal. “I was hypnotized. And I would love to become your apprentice, to be able to make swords like the one I saw.”

Getting closer to the stranger, Virgil saw him as he bowed, the light brown hair hanging from the top of his head. Virgil faced his master, wondering what he would say in the mist of the unprecedented situation.

“Firstly, please stand up straight.” Logan asked, noticing that the stranger hadn’t moved for quite some time.

The order made him laugh as he complied. “I will pretend to be straight, sure.”

“Your sexuality and, or romantic attraction matters little to me.” Logan sighed, cleaning his glasses before putting them on again. “Secondly, I accept you as an apprentice. On two conditions.”

“Yes?”

“You shall work at the shop with Virgil.” He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, bringing him closer. “And you musn’t work on your own design unless Virgil clears you to do so. Is that understood?”

“Clearly.” The stranger bowed once more, getting back up quicker this time around. “Thank you.”

Logan nodded once, stepping aside with Virgil to let the man in. “What should we call you?”

“Roman.” The stranger smirked. “Roman Kastler.”

“Welcome to the Smith’s Hub, Roman.” Virgil watched as his master held out his hand to Roman, who took it before they shook them. “This will be your home now. Virgil will show you up to your room.”

“Uh-“ Virgil interrupted, pulling at Logan’s sleeves. “I need to tell you something, in private.”

“Do not mind me.” Roman pouted as he walked around the store with light feet, taking time before each step and touching every little thing he lay his eyes upon. “I am merely appreciating the place.”

Sighing, Virgil felt a headache coming. This would be troublesome, little doubt was in his mind about that. As he pulled his master to his office, he watched Roman. The stranger took in one spot for several seconds before switching and Virgil searched from a far for any abnormalities in what he had touched. From there, he found nothing but he made a mental note to check closer whenever he could.

Closing the door behind them, Virgil felt the screams rising his throat. It burned already, almost as if there was something inside, scratching.

With Logan taking a seat at his comfortable leather chair, Virgil hovered near the table.

“Do you know anything about him, Logan?!” Virgil controlled his voice enough to make it sound like a whisper. “You will just let him wander around your shop as though he is a part of it, like you made me part of it?!”

“You were an orphan.” Logan started telling the story Virgil had already heard a million times before. “I caught you crying on the side of an abandoned road in one of my travels-“

“I was just a child!” Virgil argued, his control getting defenestrated. “He is a grown ass man, who might as well be as assassin or thief or anything of the sort! I thought you out of all people would be the most careful.”

“Why do you suppose I told him he cannot make his own sword until getting clearance from you? Or to work with you at all?” Logan arched on eyebrow as he leaned on the table.

Realization hit Virgil in mere seconds. His eyes widened with it and he trembled at the thought.

“You want me- me, the, the scared one, to monitor a stranger in your- your own freaking shop?!”

“You are overly suspicious as well.” His master added, leaving his chair and navigating around the table towards the safe on the left side of his office. Kneeling down, he opened it. “You will investigate anything he does, regardless of what I ask you to do or not to do.”

“I-“ Virgil had no arguments against that. “Are you not scared, in the slightest?”

“The odds of a murder asking to be an apprentice solemnly to get close enough to kill seem rather slim to me.” Logan grabbed a kind of metal Virgil wasn’t familiar with from inside the safe, holding it towards him. “And this is the only thing in the establishment that I would truly mind losing.”

With interest, Virgil leaned in, inspecting the piece. It was not silver or gold like most metal they usually worked with. Instead it was a rich brownish type of a color. Copper, maybe? Or bronze. Virgil had no way of confirming without deforming the piece.

“What is it?” He inquired.

“It has more sentimental value that anything else, I suppose.” Putting it on Virgil’s hands with care, Logan shrugged. “Yet I am not unintelligent enough to believe it would not sell for a high price.”

“That was not my question.” Virgil insisted, holding the metal, with the fear of letting it fall and break clenching at his heart.

“It is… a treasure.” Sitting back down, Logan used his hands to support the weight of his head and he rested his elbows on the table. “Something given to me by someone special, a rare type of metal.”

“Why take it out of its safe?”

“Exposition.” He shrugged once more. “And to let it breathe. Staying inside a dark small dry space as such would make it wither, crack and break.”

The affirmation confused Virgil, his eyebrows forming lines that tilted up at the ends. “Is this not metal? How would it wither?”

“Yes. But as I said before-“ Logan smiled as Virgil handed the piece back to its owner. “It is a rare type.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!


	3. such a good start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear Logicality is a big part of the story as well

“Roman?”

The man whose name had been called jumped at his feet, turning around on his heels, keeping his hands at his back. Virgil watched this and already deemed him guilty of something. In his perception, Roman had slipped a stone into his pocket, but he would rather not make accusations he could easily back up.

“Your desire to hide the stones we use in the swords’s handles serves only to make you seem more suspicious in my eyes.” Virgil gripped tight at Logan’s office’s doorknob in an attempt to control himself from yelling at the stranger to leave.

“I apologize.” Roman returned the stone to its place before walking towards him. “It will not happen again.”

Virgil huffed and let go of the knob. “Surely. Now, I’ll be showing you to your room.”

Turning left after Logan’s office, Virgil showed Roman the wooden staircase as he grabbed a gas lamp from the hook on the wall. He gestured for the man to go first, warning him to go right once he arrived upstairs. Staying behind him, Virgil only passed him by when he had to open the door to the room.

Inside, there was only one bed, one desk, one bookcase, one board to put up swords - furniture wise - and a window. The place was quite simple, one tone of color of wood framed the aesthetic and the details on the furniture were all made with silver like paint. Cozy and familiar, was what Virgil thought of it. Though now, maybe, it would become a little less cozier.

As Roman wandered through the environment, Virgil knelt near the bed and pulled out a mattress from under it. The gesture caught Roman’s attention immediately, kneeling down next to Virgil.

“What… would this be for?” He inquired.

“It’s your bed.”

“Why can I not sleep on that one?” Roman pointed to the bed behind Virgil.

“Because it’s where I sleep.” To mark territory, Virgil sat on it, crossing his legs over one another. “This is not a motel, your Highness.” He mocked. “Aside from Logan’s room, this is the only other we have in the establishment.”

“Ah well…” Roman let himself fall onto the mattress on the floor. “It seems comfortable enough.”

“I hope you understand this one thing, Roman.” Virgil leant in, looking down at his new colleague with the lamp on his lap. “You are in no position to ask for luxuries. This is but a simple blacksmith’s hub and workshop. And taking on apprentices is no common practice, this is a small town and people will talk. You should expect judgments, scrutinies, misconceptions about your very being, and the shop. So I would advise that you feel content with what you have at the moment, because I assure you, you won’t get much more than that.”

Silence reigned for the next couple of minutes, until Roman dared to grin. “Aren’t you a threatening fellow?”

“If you believe those were threats, I pity you for what you may receive from some of the townsfolk.” Virgil stood up, walking to the door. “I still have work to do, but you will start tomorrow morning. Six am, sharp. Rest until you can.”

With those words, the door was slammed shut and the light source gone. If the threatening fellow aimed to create an uncomfortable environment for Roman, he certainly succeeded in doing so. And Roman would have to live with the guy, for however long it took him to be able to design his own sword.

“This shall be one long experience.” He sighed to himself.

The room Roman found himself in managed to be somewhat… nicer than his old apartment, despite being smaller. And thinking back to the old place, he couldn’t even feel the sorrow for selling it. He needed to the money to find Logan Anasiest and to pay for rent in whatever place he managed to get for himself, and it’s what he had plus the money he sold the last painting he made for.

There was only one thing he would truly miss from that life, and that was painting. At his current state, he hardly had the money to pay for his next meal, much less painting materials. He’d have to go by without his much loved hobbie for some time.

“Roman?” A voice pulled Roman from his deep thoughts, following a knock. “It is Logan.”

“Yes?” He jumped up, opening the door.

“I simply came by to ascertain that you do not wish for anything else?”

“Yes-” Roman’s sudden movements caught up to him, dizziness presenting itself. “No, I misspoke. I don’t wish for anything else, thank you.”

“I trust that Virgil has warned you about the hardships in your way?” Logan inquired, a hint of expectancy in his voice.

“I would say so, yes.” Roman nodded. “At least, I have been informed of the judgements, scrutinies and misconceptions.”

“Yes.” Logan let out a relieved sighed. “In addition, working with hot metal may prove challenging. And slightly… dangerous, I must say.”

“I saw the thick gloves Virgil wore earlies.” They agreed. “And the goggles.”

“Good.” The man stepped back. “I shall teach you proper management and further instructions in the morning. Have a good night’s rest.”

“I wish you the same.” Roman stood in the doorway, watching his new master disappear under the stairs.

Once he was out of sight, Roman closed the door again and stared at it for a while. This would be his home for a while. The brooding, threatening fellow with little sense of comradery and the seeming caring but distant master. Obviously both mistrusted Roman, maybe Virgil more than Logan. Regardless, neither would pull any strings to make him feel at ease in their establishment.

“That is most certainly fine by me.” Roman lied down again, hands under his head.

Time passed by from there. Roman couldn’t mark the hours but the window helped, as he watched the position of the moon in the sky changing. When it hung from the highest point up there, Virgil came back to the room, no lamp in sight as he threw himself on his bed.

“What time is this?” Roman inquired.

“Late.” Virgil snapped, turning to face the wall.

“Will I be working like this?”

“Maybe.” The man was vague.

“Does it depend on anything?” Roman insisted.

“Who knows?” Virgil’s voice turned raspy, every bit of bitterness coming through. “Sleep, wake up tomorrow at the proper and you will find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!


	4. a bucket full of cold water is surely the best way to be woken up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love mean virgil

“Is he not awake yet?” Logan inquired as Virgil showed at the top of the stairs.

“No.” He leant on the handrails. “I yelled at him but that did not work. Should I dump a bucket of freezing cold water over his head?”

“Only if you are willing to clean up the mess.” He earned an eyebrow raise from his master.

Taking a moment to think, Virgil pouted and straightened up his posture. “I shall pay the price then.”

With that, Virgil turned around, bolting through the hallway to find the utility closet. He found a rusty bucket by the left side of the door and grabbed that. Proceeding, he took the back exist that lead to the yard. Soon, he carried a bucket full of water and ice up to his room.

“Roman?” He yelled in advance, which only made the boy mumbled and toss in the mattress. So Virgil shrug and slowly turned the bucket over his on head, the water pouring down on Roman.

“ARGH!” The stranger kicked and punched air, cubes of  ice hitting him on the face and possibly debilitating his vision for a couple of minutes. Once he recovered, he eyed Virgil with fury, standing up and stepping on his bed in a hassle. “What did you do that for?!”

“I told you to wake up at the proper time.” Virgil crossed his arms over his chest. “We follow a schedule, Roman. And we have fallen behind it already, because of you.”

In response, Roman took a deep breath in rage, holding his fisted hands in front of himself as he shivered with the cold. “How am I supposed to regulate how much I sleep? Do you have a sort of device that warns you when it is time to wake up?!”

Pointing with a finger, Virgil gestured towards the rooster standing on a wooden pole outside. “We have that. And it had been clucking for five minutes, you had not woken up with it. I called you multiple times and you did not wake. How much of a heavy sleeper are you?!”

“Depends on my mood.” Roman snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And yesterday gave me a rather nasty one.”

“Change clothes and get downstairs.” Virgil instructed, ignoring the comment. “There are some clothing for you on my bed.”

Virgil didn’t stay to hear an answer, slamming the door shut on his way out. When he arrived downstairs, Logan watched him with a knowing grin.

“You evaded an argument.” He noticed.

“Yes, well…” The boy shrugged and picked up his pair of gloves and goggles from a nearby shelf. “It seemed rather pointless anyhow, I hope he knows I would win it.”

The doorbell rang before his master could speak. The atmosphere immediately turned lighter, like the presence of whoever it was that made through the door just eliminated all the tension. And without having to look at them, both Logan and Virgil knew that person to be Patton.

“Hello!” His cheery voice confirmed the suspicion as the man approached them.

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil smiled at him.

“Hello, dear.” Logan kissed him on the cheek. “I think you shall be mildly surprised today.”

“OO, I love surprises.” He clapped. “What is it?”

“Rather, who.” Virgil mumbled, navigating from under the archway to the cases inside the shop.

“A person?” He heard Patton ask from the distance.

“Yes.” Logan replied as Virgil reached for the stones on the higher shelves. “The individual appeared at the door late at night, asking to become my apprentice.”

“Logan…” His husband’s voice carried a deathly tone to it, concern bleeding through.

“I am aware, Patton, of the possibilities.” Logan replied. “Virgil made sure I listened. Though, I would not have expected you to be this suspicious.”

“If you consider the amount of times someone, foreigner nonetheless, arrives into town asking to be taught, it becomes fairly easy to feel suspicion.” The man spouted. “Right, Virgil?”

“Hell yes.”

“Language.” Logan hissed through closed teeth.

“Your husband speaks the truth.” Virgil rejoined them after setting the stones on their molds. “This is completely and utterly unprecedented. How are we supposed to trust Roman so immediately?”

“You know I do not.” His master argued.

“And oh my, does it show.” Roman’s voice interrupted, himself walking down the stairs, extending a hand to Patton once he reached them. The simple t-shirt and baggy pants making him look a lot less… royalty like. “Hello.” He smiled, charm presenting itself. “I am Roman Kastler, or the handsome but not trustworthy stranger, if you prefer.”

“Hello.” Patton smiled back, his being the friendliest and most sincere, as he took Roman’s hand and they shook them. “You can call me Patton. Last name Lommert.“

“Lovely name.” Roman bolsted, pulling his hand back as Patton did the same. “Are you a customer?”

“He’s Logan’s husband.” Virgil snapped, knowing full well that there was no way for him to tell that from the few seconds of interaction between both men.

The comment did nothing to displease Roman, or so he didn’t show. Instead, his smile grew wider. “How marvellous! Say, do you have any kids?”

“Say,” Virgil mocked, “do you not have work to do? Do you have the time to stand idly by to make conversation?”

At this, Roman huffed with a smirk and he poked Patton with his elbow. “Is he not a joy to be around?”

“Virgil is actually one of the best people I know, thank you very much.” Logan interjected, pushing Roman towards the boy and away from his husband. “And he is not wrong. You seeked me to make you work and that is what you shall do.”

Roman’s lips twisted into a thin line, the amusement and playfulness vanishing from his demeanor. Meanwhile, Virgil left the scene but did not go too far. On the far left corner of the room, he knelt by a cupboard filled with gloves and goggles. He grabbed a pair of each.

“Right, I do apologize.” He turned to Patton and bowed. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. I hope we see each other again soon.”

“He comes by every day, now just get to work.” Virgil dropped the gear on Roman’s arms, their skin not even touching, Virgil made sure of it.

Roman waved and followed Virgil as Patton got inside Logan’s office with the man himself.

“How long have they been married for?” The stranger inquired as Virgil took out the molds and tools. When he faced him again, the man had his goggles and gloves on at least.

“Three years.” He shrugged and moved his head around, a pain in his neck irritating. “Get that for me, will you?”

He was pointing to one of the cupboards in the middle of the room. Roman crouched down to open the door on the far right and seeing an abundance of different tools and material inside. He proceed to turn to Virgil again. “What do you want from here?”

“The sword designs, the rolled up papers.”

Reaching inside, Roman found them at the back. He unrolled one to find a design much more elaborate than the sword he fell in love with. This one had a longer handle, it stretched into a patterned circle right under the blade, but turned into the cylinder form handles usual have at the bottom. It also had no lace, long and detail engravings replacing it. And itself blade was a darker shade of grey, not the shiny silver Roman had admired from Logan’s other work.

“Logan Anasiest did not design this one, did he?” Roman stretched out the paper towards Virgi, who snatched it away.

“No, this one is mine.” He still replied, rolling up the paper again and putting on the pocket of the heavy apron he wore. “There are designs in there that came from Patton’s imagination as well.”

“He designs swords?” Roman inquired, standing up with the rest of the papers.

“Yes.” Virgil pointed at a table on the far right of the room. “Set those there, there are pins inside the drawers to keep the papers from rolling themselves.”

As Roman followed the orders, Virgil gathered the rest of the materials on top of the cupboard. With no more questions from the stranger, the environment became silent, calm. It almost gave Virgil a sense of security, as if Roman had been just a nasty nightmare and he had finally woken up. The sensation was cut short when he had to go see the designs and he was reminded that Roman was standing nearby.

“Okay…” Virgil bit down on his own lip as his eyes scanned the designs. “We usually start with the simpler ones. So take your pic, from those three.” He circled a hand above three papers on the center of the table.

Staring down at them, Roman took less than a minute to pick. And he chose Virgil’s favorite too. This one had a thinner handle, it stretched out almost as far as the blade itself. And the blade was thinner as well. It was a very light weighting sword.

“Good.” Nodding, Virgil made a mental list of the materials they’d need before telling those to Roman. “For this one we need wood, and silver, mostly. Copper wire as well. Find those there.” He pointed to the cupboard.

Once again, Roman followed the instruction without questions or complaint. As he busied himself with that, Virgil grabbed the design and pinned it on a board they had on the wall. He stared at it while Roman gather up what they needed to make the sword.

“Here.” The man announced, holding all the ingredients on him arms.

Virgil picked up the wire and piece of metal. “There are knife inside the drawers as well, use one to carve the wood as shown in the design.”

And that is what happened through the rest of the day. Roman worked on the first sword per Virgil’s instructions with the man’s supervision and it took them half the day to make it. What would’ve taken merely half an hour for Virgil to do alone, became a longer task for a new learner. Not that Virgil had expected anything else, but it still felt a tiny bit frustrating to watch Roman have so much trouble with it.

Logan only showed up to see their progress by the end of the day. Usually, he worked up front, talking to clients and selling their works. Him being back there now meant the store was closed for the day.

“How did our apprentice do today, Virgil?” He asked, hands behind his back.

“Well enough, I’d say.” His friend shrugged. “We faced no major problems so far.”

“Good.” Logan smiled. “I wish a fruitful night’s sleep for both of you.”

“You too, Lo.” Virgil saluted with two fingers.

“I say the same.” Roman nodded as the boss retreated to the upper floor, pulling up the visor from the face shield he had on.

Once he was out of sight, he leaned closed to Virgil and whispered. “Why does he get to sleep earlier and we have to stay behind?”

“Because his work his already done, while alas!” Virgil upped his volume on the last word. “We still have a sword to finish, and materials to organize.”

The comment earned him a deadpan look from the stranger. “Your sarcasm is touching.”

“As if I am ever thinking of pleasing you at all.” He huffed, finishing the polishing work another sword. “End with fussing and we have our night’s rest.”

As he sighed, Roman closed the visor again and returned to his task. After he was finished, Virgil polished everything and they were done for the day.

“We are running low on wires.” The boy warned the other as they walked up the stairs. “Tomorrow I will give you an address, some money and ask Patton to escourt you there to buy more some.”

“Got it.” Roman’s reply came out as an uninterested remark. Virgil chose to ignore it.

“If you are not up again by the proper time in the morning, you will find yourself waking up at the Poles once more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a commment!


	5. jagkfahsdj shit happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!

The next morning, the chicken clucking outside managed to wake up Roman with little effort. The sound seemed to vibrate around the room, reaching the man’s ears much more easily. As he woke up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and sustaining the rest of his weight with the other on the mattress, he managed to see why.

By the window, there was the chicken, it’s head turned to the inside of the room.

“Good morning, Princey.” Virgil smirked, as he finished putting on his t-shirt.

“IMPOSSIBLE!” Roman stood up, pointing at him with wide eyes. “The chicken just started its- its insufferable alarming sound!”

The other man sided eyes him. “Or did it?

“IT DID!” He insisted. “Are you secretly an owl?”

“Perhaps.” Virgil opened the door and stepped out. “Would you like to see me transforming?”

“Virgil, please, be serious!” Roman runned after him, grabbing his arm. “Tell me your secret!”

To this, Virgil simply shrugged and handed him a note. “This is the address. Pat will meet you outside soon.”

Staring at the piece of paper, Roman missed when Virgil walked down the stairs and disappeared inside the store. He sighed, still feeling too tired from what he would barely call a night’s sleep.

Roman would only admit this if you pointed a sword directly at his heart, or threatened to slash his neck with one, but making those little devilish pointy things required a lot more work than he had anticipated. The wood carving was a particularly difficult task for Roman, his hands still stung from the barbs that pricked his skin the previous day. And manipulating melted metal? A lot harder than it looked.

It would all be worth the pain if he could end up being able to make swords as elegant as Logan Anasiest’s.

Folding the note, Roman put it inside the pocket of the pants he’d been given. And with that he charged outside, ready to wait for Patton.

Who was already at the door, ready to knock on it.

“Hello, Roman!” He smiled, cheerfully.

“Greeting, my dear Patton.” Roman stepped out, walking as he pulled Patton along. “You see, I was tasked with buying more wire, but alas, Virgil never gave me the money.”

“I have it.” Patton petted his pockets, provoking a sound of coins clashing on each other. “Do not fret.”

“Brilliant then!” They started their journey to the market. “And as we walk, I shall bother you with a question. If you are my escort, why did Virgil give me an address?”

“I would suppose that is because you will be asked to do this again.” Patton pondered before answering. “Perhaps without my supervision.”

“Oh…” Roman pouted as he thought of what that would entail. Proceeding, he slouched a bit, leaning on the shorter man. “Do you suppose they would ever truly trust me enough?”

“Are you worthy of ever being trustly trusted?”

The question hit Roman like a hammer pounding on his head. His purpose for becoming Logan Anasiest’s apprentice was to copy his work and sell it as his own. Of course he was not worthy of being trusted. And now that he thought of the matter, he could hardly think of one reason why he should care about being trusted the way that he was expecting to be. A certain amount of it would allow him to get more knowledge of the sword making process, thus making him a better bladesmith, but what he seemed to be seeking was more. His worry about being trusted didn’t came from being a better counterfeiter, but from wanting to fit in the environment. And that nonsense needed to cease being.

“Of course.” Roman put on a smile, the most charming one he could summon. “I am aware of how I may come across, regardless, I bear no ulterior motives.”

“Then you have nothing to concern yourself with.” Patton answered, satisfied. “Aside from the wires. Frankly, they always seem to wear thin rather quickly.”

“Oh no.” The other man concealed a laugh with his hand. “Do not tell me you are fond of play on words.”

The grin Patton gave him held mischievousness and entertainment. “Why would I not? They do find unworldly.”

“You- You just did, not-” Roman was unable to contain the chuckles that came. “This shall be a long journey, will it not?”

“Solemnly if you do not wish to take a shortcut.”

“Second question of the day.” He arched an eyebrow. “Does your husband endure these?”

Patton hummed and rolled his eyes around before responding. “I believe he finds them delightfully annoying.”

“I would have believed he would think of them as clever.”

“Some he does, others he does not.” He shrugged. “It comes down to how much charisma I put into them.”

Such response got another giggle out of Roman. “You are a delight to hold a conversation with, my dear Patton. Virgil is… relies too much on sarcasm for my taste, and Logan has barely spoken two full sentences directed at me since he took me as his apprentice. Honestly, it seems rather like Virgil is my master.”

“I cannot tell you what his plans with you are,” They approached the market, “seeing as I myself do not know what they are.”

Before answering, Roman took time to admire the simple structure. Different colored tents that stretched from the entrance to the back, and divided left and right. That was all there is to it. But the market he saw now bore such striking differences from the ones he’d been back home. Inside tall buildings, with open spaces right in the middle and proper stores, in the places of the tents.

“No matter, my dear Patton.” Roman turned to the man. “I shall find those out for myself. I would hate to say no to such an adventure.”

“My sweet potatoes!” Someone in the crowd of tents exclaimed, grabbing Patton’s attention as he moved along with Roman, their arms linked. “Patton Lommert, how long has it been since I last saw you?”

Holding his companion back as he turned around to face the mysterious person, Patton smiled at them. “Hello, mister Freist. It has been quite some time, hasn’t it? How is your family?”

“Everyone’s been doing well, thank the gods.” The stranger did not seem to register Roman’s presence as he continued. “Would you believe my youngest niece is interested in bladesmithing?”

“She could make a fine bladesmith, in my sincere opinion.” Patton set Roman into view. “I also believe I should introduce my companion, Roman Kastler.”

“Hello.” Mister Freist eyed him with distrust, seemingly imitating Virgil. Maybe that’s who he got it from. “I don’t think I have seen you around.”

“Well yes, Roman is out of town.” Patton started. “You see, he came two nights ago and-”

“Dear Patton, shall I talk to you in private for a minute?”

“We will be back, mister Freist.” Patton dismissed with a smile as they walked away, not before shouting, “Your tent is most certainly lovely!”

“Patton.”

“What is the problem, Roman?”

“Virgil told me about this place’s prejudiced mindset.” Roman whispered, getting closer to the man. “Is it necessary to disclose the information at all?”

“We frown upon liars worse than we do apprentices, Roman.” Patton warned, sympathetic. “But it is your choice.”

“I would prefer the lie, please.” Hesitation was nowhere to be seen from the newcomer’s part. “Tell him I was a blacksmith in my town and came to seek a job at your husband’s shop. Surely is has some level of credibility outside town?”

The man nodded. “It does.”

“Good.” Roman smiled, content with the decision. “Then I shall look for the wires, and we can meet each other by the entrance in say…” He looked up, finding the tower clock. “Twenty minutes?”

With a sigh, Patton nodded while frowning. He got rid of it as he approached Mister Freist and Roman set off to find the wires they needed.

“We now have enough wire to last… maybe three months?” Roman questioned, holding the plastic bag by its bottom to feel the weight.

“One.” Patton held up a finger.

“WHAT?!” The man objected. “How can we possibly burn through so much wire in so little time? And why could we not buy more?”

“To the first question I say, have you not seen how many swords they make in one day? And to the second, the sellers have a limit to how much of a product one individual can purchase. We hit the wire’s seller with ours.”

“Such a waste.”

“Possibly.” Patton shrugged as he opened the shop’s door, letting Roman inside first.

“Patton?!” Logan’s frenetic voice called, the man himself running down the stairs and reaching his husband. “Virgil is sick!”

“What?” Roman furrowed his eyebrows, throwing his head back while Patton simply nodded and ran upstairs.

Roman pulled Logan’s shirt. “How long were we gone for? Because it seemed barely over an hour. How has the threatening fellow fallen ill so rapidly?”

His master side glanced him, a tortured frown present. “I have some suspicion…”

“And what is it?!”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” Logan pushed Roman to the working area. “Since Virgil is unavailable for today, I will guide you through the tasks while Patton helps my friend recover.”

“Is your husband a doctor?” Roman set the bag on the table, taking the rolls of wires out.

“Something of the sort.” Logan dug inside the cupboard for the designs. “But that is not what you should be focusing on at this time.”


	6. he might've deserved that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment!

The sensations were unbearable. Virgil left contradictory things that shouldn’t be going with each and he had no idea where to focus on. Even visually, his eyes weren’t able to clearly see a thing, his view being all blurry. He couldn’t tell it was Patton when the man opened the door to his room. He had to recognize his friend by voice.

“Virgil?”

“Pat?” He coughed out.

“Yes.” The man approached. “Logan told me you felt sick?”

Virgil gulped and nodded with his eyes closed. It was as though he couldn’t do much more at that moment.

“Virgil, what do you are the symptoms?” Patton kneeled next to the boy’s bed, holding his burning hot hand.

“Cold, outside.” Virgil shivered, hissing. “But also hot, exceedingly so, on the inside. It’s-” He coughed for a little bit. “It’s as if my blood is boiling but I am enveloped in wind.”

“Oh.” The man bit the inside of his lip, squeezing his friend’s hand tighter. “I do apologize, Virgil, for I cannot heal you from this.”

“What?” Gulping, the boy tried to sit up, failing as he felt dizzy. “Why not?”

“This… it is something you must figure out for yourself.” Patton said, as if it explained anything.

“Patton-” He coughed some more. “Please don’t be vague.”

“I cannot say more.” Patton let go of his hand, stepping back with tears forming on his own eyes. “I am so deeply sorry.”

“Patton?” Virgil called as the man backed away. “You’re scaring me.”

“Nothing bad will happen to you.” The man smiled. “I promise.”

“O…okay?”

“I will be downstairs with Logan and Roman.” Patton warned. “If you need anything, call for either of us.”

Without waiting for a response, the man stepped out the door and closed it, slowly. Virgil was left to ponder of what in all the hells had happened. If it was not anything bad, why did it feel like he could spit out fire at any minute? Why did it seem like he was burning from inside, with ice surrounding his body? Why did dizziness take over, picking apart his thoughts, bringing only blackness?

If nothing bad would happen, why did he pass out on his own bed?

-

“It must be a-” Someone spoke out in the halls, a loud shush following and the voices turned quieter.

Waking up, Virgil pressed a hand against his head, only to find a wet towel over his head. Surely Patton or Logan had put it there to regulate his temperature.

Whatever was being said outside, Virgil missed it. His curiosity enticed him, making his legs lead him up from his bed and to the door. He found that the dizziness from earlier was gone, but his own temperature was still far from being the normal for a human.

Leaning against the door, he pressed his ear against the wood. There were still whispers, so low, Virgil still couldn’t hear a thing. He insisted until the environment became completely quiet and then the door opened, Virgil losing his balance and falling through the archway.

“What are you doing up?” Roman helped him get back on his feet, leading the man to his bed. “Patton warned us you are in need of rest.”

“I feel fine.” He barked back, it being surprisingly true, his temperature settling down.   

“You honestly do not look it.” Roman huffed. “When was the last time you even had a proper night’s sleep?”

“What?” Virgil was taken aback by the question.

“You do not actually believe that I thought you to be a shapeshifter, surely?” The man laughed, shaking his head. “You were awake before the rooster cried out because you never slept at all.”

And it was then, the first time that Virgil had no snarky response to give to Roman. Or any sort of verbal response at all. All he did was twist his lips into a half frown and avoid the man’s gaze by turning his head away.

“Since when?”

“Why are you so intent in knowing?” Virgil snapped.

“You are more my instructor than Logan has been.” Roman shrugged. “Did the towel work?”

“He is busy.” Virgil defended, his loyalty and gratitude towards Logan coming through fiercely. “And… seemingly so. Did you put it there?”

“So why did he take me on as an apprentice?” Roman crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the the question.

“Because he has a soft big old heart.” Snickering, Virgil shook his head, not pressing the matter. “No matter how much he wants to make others believe he doesn’t.”

“Why would he want to make others believe he does not have a big soft heart?” The man questioned, throwing his hands up. “Have they not seen who his husband is?!”

“It’s fine if he has a bubbly, friendly, soft husband.” A sigh. “But who would buy swords from a swordsmith who is opposed to war and is too good to say no to strangers?”

“Then why make swords in the first place?!”

And by gods, Virgil realized he had been saying too much with little sarcasm or snark. It freaked him out how vulnerable he’d become around Roman in that short amount of time.

“You’ll have to ask him.” He turned away, lying on his bed to face the wall. “Because fuck if I know.” Which was a bold faced lie.

The Smith’s Hub was Logan’s parents business. They had been fine with Logan not taking much interest in it at any given point of their lives, Logan told him. But once they died… Logan himself did not want to let go of the shop. For such a practical and analytical man, he was still as much as a sentimentalist as Patton, who was the biggest one Virgil knew. And Logan loved designing the weapons, he viewed them as art pieces, not objects to hurt pierce through people. And fairly, some people did buy swords just to hang on their walls.

“You have lived with Logan for a quite a while, no?” Virgil sensed the pressure at the edge of the bed as Roman sat there. “How come you do not talk as eloquently as he does?”

“Because I am my own fucking person and Logan isn’t the only person I have ever talked to in my life.”

“You were being so tranquil, I was beginning to wonder when that would cease to be.” The man sighed. “Should I leave?”

“Do whatever you wish.”

With that, Roman stood up. “Then please do not blame me for waking up late tomorrow.”

The door was slammed, the heavy atmosphere setting, Virgil’s chest feeling like it was back on fire. Except this time, it was for self hatred, and not an illness.

Maybe he had been acting too harsh around Roman. But the question, oh the gods all the questions, that is what irritated him the most. Who did Roman Kastler think he was, trying to get such deep personal information about Virgil and his master? Surely he knew he was trying to form a bond too fast.

With his sickness gone, Virgil brought himself to thinking. Why had he felt sick in the first place? He recalled it was right after giving the note to Roman that morning. He had stumbled down the stairs and as soon as he went to open the cupboards, his blood caught on fire. Soon after came a headache and then he found himself lying on the floor, the cold feeling overpowering him, not letting him stand up for himself.

Logan saw him not five minutes after Roman left the shop. And things escalated from there. He broke a disgusting sweat, regardless of how cold he still felt, and his head started spinning.

All of them was gone when Roman touched him again, helping him as he stood up from the floor. Was it… Was it somehow connected to him? Was that too far-fetched?

Did it even matter?

Virgil was no longer ill, and he could go back to work. Except… for the fact that it was already nightfall, and Logan most likely had closed the shop. Maybe Roman was still downstairs, organizing the mess he certainly made as he worked. Virgil decided to go and see for himself.

“Roman?” He called out.

“Yes, mister sour puss?” The response came as Roman took out pins from the boards, setting them on the little box they belonged to.

“I might’ve deserved that.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck as he approached. “I do apologize. Do you need any help? I… I’m actually feeling much better.”

“I appreciate the offer.” Roman gave a weak smile. “You are more aware of where everything belongs than I am.”

“That,” Virgil grabbed the pin’s box from him, “Is a given.”


	7. some bonding time

There was trembling at first.

Virgil’s dream cracked and dismentelled piece by piece as a voice approached from the distance, it getting louder and easier to hear by the second. At first, the man ignored it, all he wanted to do was slip back into the sweet unconscious void that was sleep but alas-

“Virgil!” Roman insisted, shaking Virgil more. “Why the hell are you sleeping?”

“Because it’s my fucking day off.” The man mumbled, putting his pillow over his face as he rested his head on the mattress instead. “And language.”

“You have no work today?” Roman huffed, inquiring. “Do I not have it as well?”

“Take it to Logan.” Virgil growled, now putting pressure on the pillow, trying to block out the loud sounds. “I am tired.”

With that, he heard the floorboards creaking and the click of the door shutting. As silence settled, he sighed with eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep. But now he felt too aware of his surroundings and awake, so he sat up instead.

“Wait-” A thought occurred to him, making him get a calendar he hid under his mattress. “Today is…”

A Thursday was marked on the paper. Purple arrows pointed to the written art exposition downtown.

That made Virgil jump from his bed, getting to his closet immediately. He snatched the first clean clothing pieces he found and dressed up at what - to him - felt like the speed of light. Wasting no more time, he slid his way down the stairs through the handrails.

“LOGAN, I AM GOING TO THE ART EXPOSITION!” He shouted, a hand on the doorknob. “I WILL COME BACK BEFORE NIGHTFALL.”

As he opened the door, Roman ran into his view, staring at him with expectancy in his eyes. “Did you just say art exposition?”

“Yes.” Virgil straightened his back. “Downtown. I attend every year. Do you-”

“I DO!” Roman yelled. “I mean- I do love art. It is one of my favorite things in this gorgeous world.”

Virgil smirked. “I would have phrased that differently, but I do understand what you meant.”

“May I ask…” The other man turned timid as he continued. “If I could accompany you to the exposition?”

“Oh.” The smirk faltered, as Virgil looked behind himself to search for Logan.

His master was standing by the archway, watching the interaction. “Yes?”

“Does he get a day off too?” Virgil questioned.

“If he wishes for it.” Logan shrugged. “He gets as many as you do, which means he shall not get another one until next week.”

Turning to Roman, Virgil smirk came back. “Chose carefully, Princey.”

“And miss an art exposition?!” Roman waved air off. “I would rather literally be burning in hell.”

“Man…” Virgil finally opened the door this time, avoiding Roman’s gaze. “You are intense.”

The man followed. “Life is all about the dramatics.”

They walked out. Virgil shoved his hands inside his pockets as neither had more to say. The awkward atmosphere remained for about five minutes, Roman breaking it, or attempting to.

“So…” He started. “You remarked that you attend every year?”

“Yeah…” Virgil took one hand out to rub the back of his neck. “They do not stay in one place for long, so there’s only today.”

“Oh…” Roman nodded, turning to face Virgil. “Eh…”

Just kill me now, Virgil thought to himself.

He knew how to be hostile towards people, he knew how to be sarcastic and put up a front, evade questions and remain a mystery. He had no idea how to be friendly and vulnerable and make meaningful bonds with others.

The only reason he got along with Patton at all was because he was a man that insisted on it. But he never let the conversation die or become awkward like Roman was doing. So again. Silence settled.

“Well,” Virgil stopped after a few minutes, looking up at scenery in front of them.

It was a big venue, sort of like the marketplace, except it wasn’t inside a building. The exposition happened in the middle of a park, the only thing separating it from the streets being metal grids.

“Here we are.”

In sight, there were paintings and sculptures. But also drawings on the floor, mostly done by kids with coal.

When Roman didn’t reply, Virgil stared at him, poking the man with his elbow. “Don’t let your jaw drop, Princey.”

“This is simply brilliant!” Roman said, before turning to Virgil. “I have never seen this type of exhibition, not in my hometown.”

“I don’t know where you used to live,” Virgil walked away, leaving him behind, “but you have missed some good things.”

As Virgil began browsing, he would occasionally turn his head to the entrance, trying to see if Roman had moved. For the first five times he did this, the man hadn’t. But the sixth’s time, he saw no Princey there anymore. He spotted him on the other side of the park, admiring the paintings while Virgil himself eyed the sculptures.

Eventually, he wandered towards the paintings, meeting Roman who stared at one with burning intensity.

“Have you lost anything in there?” Virgil teased.

“No,” Roman shook his head, rather unattentive. “I am trying to recall if I have ever fo-” He stopped himself before continuing. “Seen, this painting somewhere before.”

“Well, you can ask the painter.” Virgil pointed to a green colored hair individual, sitting on a bench not too far away from them. “Their name is Talyn, I meet them a couple of years ago. They bring their work here every year.”

“Oh sh-” Roman turned away, walking to the paintings.

“Princey?” Virgil called, following but got no answer. “Roman? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Roman continued, shaking his head again. “Nothing. I just- I fear I am not feeling too good.”

“Shit.” Virgil cursed, trying to approach. “Did you get whatever I had yesterday?!”

“M-Maybe.”

“Let’s get you home then.” Virgil insisted, reaching towards Roman who kept taking steps further away.

“Home?” He questioned.

“The.. The Hub.” Virgil corrected himself. “Let’s get you to the Hub.”

With a small nod, Roman gave in, walking in front of Virgil as they left.

“Are you sure you are feeling good enough to walk back?”

“Yes, Virgil.” Roman snapped. “I am just… I just need to lie down.”

“Okay…”

“Logan?” Virgil called as they arrived.

His master responded from his office, his voice being muffled by the walls.

Turning to Roman, Virgil walked towards the room. “Go rest upstairs, I’ll just tell Logan what happened.”

He opened the door and stepped in without waiting to see if Roman followed the instructions. Once inside, he sat down in front of Logan.

“Yes?”

“Roman told me he was not feeling well at the exhibition.” Virgil spilled. “I brought him back.”

“Dammit.” Logan twisted his lips. “Patton is currently at the neighborhood village, treating some of his clients.”

“I don’t think it is too bad.” Virgil pondered. “He just seemed… frazzled. Jumpy.”

“Jumpy?” Logan arched an eyebrow, asking for clarification.

“As though as if there was a threat nearby only he knew about.”

“How omnious.” He picked at the skin under his lower lip.

Virgil shrugged. “It is my aesthetic. Anyhow, I believe he will be better by tomorrow morning.”

A nod came from Logan in agreement. “Let us hope. Thank you for the notice.”

“Always.” Virgil stood up, about to leave when a question nudged at the back of his head, making him turn back. “I have one question for you, though.

“What is it?” His master leaned on the table with his elbows resting on it.

“Why did you take him in?”

Sighing, Logan stood up and directed himself towards the boy. “I shall tell you something that might change your perspective of Roman. However, I do not want you to jump to conclusions, and I want you to listen to me thoroughly before voicing any of your thoughts. Is that a deal?”

“I-” Virgil gulped, deciding to trust his master. “Deal.”

“Roman is a counterfeiter.” Logan stopped Virgil who was already about to let out a great big WHAT?! “I have known since the beginning. About two weeks before he came, I received a letter. I have told you about an arrangement I have with a underground auction organizer, have I not?”

“Logan… that’s illegal.”

“It would be, yes.” Logan nodded. “However, this organizer works for with the police. He collects evidence to send counterfeiters and the buyers to jail. I let him use one of my swords, to make a counterfeit and sell it at the auction. That morning, he wrote me to say Roman was searching for me. I asked him about his background and I received some rather… disturbing information. And I do hate thinking of myself as a sentimentalist… however I saw a great deal of me in him, surprisingly enough. And I am trying to tear him away from that life of crime, give him more than counterfeiting to do with his set of abilities. The organizer gave me a month, thirty days, Virgil. Or else, Roman goes to jail. I am pleading, I want you to help me. Help him.”

Shaking his head with slow movements and a half opened mouth, Virgil tried processing the information. It took him over a minute to speak again.

“You’ve barely talked to him, Lo.”

“I conversated with him plenty while you were ill.” Logan put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, making the younger boy meet his eyes with his own. “He is lying to us, I am aware. You know I do not usually condone lies. I do believe this a special case.”

“I do believe you became insane!” Virgil exclaimed. “But of course, I will not do anything but turn back into the sarcastic cold jerk I was with him since day one. No matter what words you say to me now, Logan, he deserves this much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!


	8. joan joan

Truth be told, Roman knew Talyn very well. He had recreated a lot of their paintings before, made good money off of them, and eventually, got caught by them. Somehow, he had managed to charm them out of pressing charges but… Talyn did yell at his face that they never wanted to hear or see him again. So Roman stopped counterfeiting their work. And he would have never asked to go with Virgil on the damned exhibit if he had knew they would be there.

He hadn’t ask to leave because he felt sick. Though it seemed he was a good enough actor to make Virgil believe that was the reason.

Now he lay on his mattress, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to fall back to its normal pace. Did he and his counterfeits drive Talyn to show their work at exhibitions like that? Not that it was a pitiful thing, it was just usually how artists started out. Talyn had been around for long enough to be recognized and have their work be worth a lot of money. They should have had a lot of better, highly rated, places to present their work in. This might be the first time Roman thought about the way what he did affected the actual artists

A knock on the door pulled Roman out of his deep thought, the cracking sound of it opening calling his attention to whoever was entering the room.

“Roman?” Logan called from the threshold. “Virgil warned me that you felt unwell.”

“Yes-” Roman sat up, sighing. “No, it is not that bad. I believe it was just some mesly heatstroke.“

“You do know that that condition is worse than it sounds?” Logan sat at the edge of Virgil’s bed. “In addition, the sun outside is hardly strong enough to give the palest of all a heatstroke.”

“You mean Virgil.” Roman snickered.

“If you are not sick then,” Logan addressed, “surely you can join him at the workshop downstairs?”

Nodding, Roman gulped. “Yes, I- I shall go soon.”

“Good.” Logan stood up, walking away with his hands behind his back. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too…” Roman replied, his voice carrying on after the man had already left.

And then he was alone to ponder over what had happened to him in the last four hours.

1.Logan Anasiest definitely knew more about Roman than he was letting on, it slightly unsettling the way he talked to him, as though he knew the secrets Roman tried to keep hidden

2.If Talyn found out he was there, working at the shop, he would be done for, probably. His cover would be blown, for one.

3.He had enjoyed being in Virgil’s company for once, even if it was just for a short amount of time. It had felt good having such a nice conversation, no hostility, no sarcasm, no cheapshots.

He arrived at one conclusion that he dreaded. He was destined for damnation. On all three accounts. They could all bring him trouble, in different ways.

Roman Kastler was completely and utterly doomed.

He met Virgil downstairs after taking some time to recollect himself. The other man concentrating on polishing swords, using an already dirty piece of cloth.

“I thought today was your day off?” Roman questioned, going down the steps.

“Yes, well.” Virgil shrugged, not meeting him eye in eye. “I’m back home, might as well work.”

“Hm…” Roman circled around him, reaching the table. “Is there not something wrong with that phrase?”

“Like?” Virgil enticed, still not looking the other man.

“When one is home, they are supposed to relax, rest. Take time for themselves and the activities they enjoy. No?”

“Not here.”

Sensing the edgy and frustrated tone to the man’s voice, Roman decided to change the subject.

“Say, when do you think I shall be able to make my own sword?”

Without missing a beat, Virgil snapped. “A long time.”

“Fine!” Roman cried out, throwing his hands in the air. “I will bite. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Virgil set the blade down, turning to face Roman with an expression he hadn’t seen before. The man’s eyes wide and burning red, lips that forming neither a smile or a frown, eyebrows that edge closer to each other.

In short, it was the face of someone angry.

“I do not appreciate liars, Roman.” The man snarled.

“Hold on, if this is about my being sick-”

“It’s about you!” Virgil yelled out. “Just you, in your entirety. Logan wants to help you, gods know why, but I am through trying to be nice when all you’ve done is lie to me.”

Roman stopped dead in his place, freezing. Did Virgil know? How much was he aware of? Why did it scare Roman so much if he knew even just some small details?

When he didn’t reply, Virgil huffed, returning to his sword. Roman watch him as he finished the polishing work and took the sword to the shop’s windows. While all of that happened, Roman never unfroze.

“If Logan insists on letting you sleep here,” Virgil said, as he got to the bottom of the stairs. “I will insist on living with Patton.”

“Virgil-” Roman meant to call, but it barely came out as whisper.

He lost the courage to try again when Virgil slammed the door of their room shut.

“What… even happened…” Roman whispered to himself.

As he stood on the same spot, Logan came out of his office. He stopped by the archway, watching Roman.

“Are you alright, Roman?” His master asked.

“Hardly.” Roman crossed his arms over his chest. “I have been yelled at before, just not-”

“By someone you care this much about?”

Throwing his head back, Roman made a face of disgust. “I do not-”

“Please.” Logan stared, an eyebrow arched.

“Let us say I do care about the threatening fellow.” Roman gestured. “What the hell did I do to anger him so?”

“I apologize, I lack that knowledge.” Logan pouted, leaning against the archway. “And this matter seems exceedingly person in my eyes, anyhow.”

“Logan-”

“Remember what we conversed about yesterday?” He shot. “I hope you listened well enough.”

“WHY MUST YOU BE SO CRYPTIC?!” Roman shouted after the man retreated to his office.

They talked about a lot of things the day before. What was he supposed to have listened well enough?

He went through a list in his head.

He had tried to ask more about Patton’s career but Logan shut that down. Then, Roman questioned the sword making process… the conversation ended on Logan asking why Roman came to town.

“To learn from you.” He’d answered. “I have told you this, have I not?”

“I believe you have.” Logan had nodded, slowly. “But where did you heard of my work?”

“Eh-” Roman hadn’t been prepared for that question, he dragged out the syllable until he could from a full sentence. “I have a blacksmith friend. They bought from your shop once, a long while ago.”

“What were they called?”

“Joan.” Roman gulped. “Joan…”

“No last name?”

“No, that is it. They are called Joan Joan.”

There was a minute where no words were spoken. “Surely that is plausible. However… what made you want to learn to craft swords?”

“Your design.” Roman shot. “I am sure this I told you.”

A sigh, as Logan got closer to the younger man. “I am aware that you have your secrets, Roman. And I am not asking you to divulge anything you are not comfortable with us knowing. But we frown upon liars, harshly. I warn you to not be surprised if you anger someone. And if you do… be sure to know when to step back and when to attempt to mean a broken trust.”

So was that what he meant? Even Patton had warned Roman that the village hated lies. Why was so important?

He supposed… in his case… it was a grave fault to them… But goddamit, he needed to make a living somehow! This was the way he know how to.

Regardless, the more he thought about Virgil’s last words to him, threatening to move out, the less confident he felt about his whole plan. He was tearing a family apart, apparently. That was too much, even for him. He might as well be gone and start over somewhere else. He didn’t have his old apartment to fall back on, he’d find a place to spend the nights easily enough though. He was charming, and persistent!

Though… the idea of leaving started to physically hurt. Deep in his chest, his heart cried out nos that rung in his ears. Roman had a very vivid image of it in his head.

Just how attached could you get two people after only three days?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment


	9. oh boi too much new information

The door slam seemed overly dramatic to Virgil, definitely not something he expected from himself. However, he was in rage and feeling betrayed so the concern was short lived.. Now, after knowing the truth, just hearing Roman’s voice made his blood boil, with anger. Virgil was physically restraining himself from punching through the walls, his hands becoming fists as he sat down on the floor with his back hunched over his lap.

At one point, he decided to stand up and open up the window to sit on it. The air of the evening was cold but not enough to make him shiver and the breeze just hit him gently. The experience was surprisingly calming, making his fists unclench and his throat untighten. He started feeling calm again, just when a knock disrupted the atmosphere.

“Virgil, can I come in?”

“Sure.” He recognized the voice as Logan’s. “What do you want?”

“I believe you were more than just your sarcastic cold self towards Roman.” The man stepped in.

“Guess who’s fault is that?” Virgil never left the window. “Why do you care about him so much, anyhow?”

“Virgil, I beg, please-” Logan was beginning to sound emotional, his voice wobbling and the words being heavily charged.

“You lied to me, Logan!” Virgil snapped. “Both of you did, and maybe with Roman it was expected but you? Lying by omission, guess who taught me that one?”

“I did not want to be as you are now.” Logan explained. “I planned to tell you much later on, when I thought Roman had turned around.”

“Nice to know you were going to keep me in the dark for so long, Lo.” Virgil passed his legs through the window, back inside. “I want to live with Patton.”

“What?” The statement made Logan blink, several times.

“You want Roman to stay here.” Virgil stated. “And I cannot be here if he stays.”

‘Virgil-”

“I will still come to work.” He continued. “But as long as Roman’s here, I will not take his place as home any longer.”

“I-” Logan tried but Virgil had turned back to the scenery outside. “Virgil, listen-”

The younger man pretended not to listen anymore. Eventually, after a few more frustrated attempts, Logan sighed and left the room.

Taking it as a sign, Virgil started packing his belongings.

-

Patton’s house was on the street behind the Hub. As Virgil existed his home, holding the suitcase close to his chest, he didn’t even bother announcing it to Logan. But as he reached out his hand to turn the front door’s knob, Roman caught him before he could.

“You are leaving when I should be the one to go?”

Virgil didn’t turn around as he replied. “Logan will not kick you out. He might help you find another place to live and let you stay here until you do so. But he is not kicking you out. And I am not staying while you remain.”

Roman started arguing but Virgil turned the knob, opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. As he breathed in, he closed his eyes, letting his chest fall back down. Proceeding, he walked straight to the left, and took another left before taking a right and walking a few more steps in that direction. He only stopped when he reached the small, one floor, house that looked like a rectangular box. Without wanting to wait much longer, he knocked once.

Patton received him, surprise stamped on his face. “Kiddo, what are you doing here?”

Virgil didn’t visit the man’s house often. Patton was always showing up at the Hub, so there was no need really.

“Can… Can I stay with you, for a while?”

“Of course!” He stepped aside, leaving space for Virgil to go inside. “What is the matter?”

Virgil let his bag fall on the floor as he sat down himself. Twisting around his neck, Virgil remained silent for another minute.

“Virgil?” Patton kneeled next to him, taking the boy’s hand.

“Logan lied to me.” He finally spoke. “About Roman, and Roman lied to me about himself.”

“Logan told you?” Patton squeezed the boy’s hand. “About Roman being a counterfeiter?”

As the words he’d just listened entered his ears, Virgil was unable to react. It felt like hours before he actually did, pulling his hand away from Patton and standing up, stepping back from the man as he rose up too.

“You knew?!” Virgil screamed, tears forming on his eyes. “You knew too? I was the only one kept in the dark?!”

“Virgil, I-”

“Why is everyone I care about lying to me?!” The boy continued. “WHY WAS I THE ONLY ONE WHO COULDN’T BE TRUSTED?”

“Kiddo, that is not what this is, please listen to me.” Patton got closer, holding Virgil by his elbows, with care.

“What, are you going to tell me it was for my own protection or something?” He scoffed.

“No.” Patton shook his head. “I hated lying to you, I did, and I pleaded for Logan to tell you. I am glad he finally did-”

“Not before I asked him about it.” Virgil pointed out, bitterness at the tip of his tongue.

“I know, but he still told you.” Patton insisted. “He did not want to tell you because he saw you in Roman.”

“What?” Virgil bitter-laughed. “That’s bullshit.”

“Language.” Patton booped the boy’s nose.

Blinking several times, reacting, Virgil pursed his lips into a frown. “He told me he saw himself in Roman, though.”

“Oh my…” Patton messages his temples with both hands. “Well, he lied about that. He told me he found some information about Roman, about his parents.”

“Yeah?” Virgil enticed.

“He was adopted when he was really young.” Patton continued. “From the same orphanage you were in.”

“Eh?” Virgil sneered. “Me, in an orphanage? I don’t remember that.”

“Well, it is understandable since you were no older than two, at the time.” Patton shrugged. “And this is the logic I do not understand how Logan got for himself, but he wondered if some little things had gone differently, maybe Roman could have been the baby he found at his doorstep when he was merely twenty years old. Maybe you could have been the counterfeiter that came to his shop, looking to learn how to make swords so he could make perfect copies.”

The breathe was knocked out of Virgil’s body, all at once. It seemed a rather emotional conclusion for Logan to get at. Who wasn’t the sentimentalist, huh? Logan could be the biggest sap Virgil knew, sometimes.  

“His adoptive parents passed away five years ago and it is when he started counterfeiting.” Patton added. “You remember what happened to us then?”

Virgil shook his head, not recalling anything too major.

“You made your first sword.” Patton smiled. “It wasn’t perfect and it broken after two weeks of you using it.”

“So what?” Virgil snapped. “It could’ve been Roman there, instead of me, huh? THAT IS NOT WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. I WAS HERE, ROMAN WAS SOMEWHERE ELSE. WHY DOES THIS MATTER SO MUCH?”

“Has Logan showed you a… special metal since Roman arrived?” The older man questioned.

“Yes, but what-”

“I made that for him.” He rubbed Virgil’s arms. “Mixing a bit of different metals and than one drop of my blood, as well as his. You know we are soulmates, don’t you?”

“I don’t doubt you love each other, Pat.” Virgil snickered. “But I don’t believe in his soulmate business. And I do not know what this has to do with anything we were talking about”

“Just listen.” Patton insisted, meeting his eyes with the boy’s. “Truth be told, I know Logan didn’t like me very much at  the beginning. He himself was very honest with me about that. But I look at where we are now, and I don’t think we would be here if all the things from before hadn’t happened.”

“Pat…” Virgil shook his head and took another step back. “You cannot be telling me you think Roman is my soulmate?”

The man shrugged. “It’s a suspicion. One that Logan and I share.”

As he struggled to breathe and find words to speak, Virgil tripped on his own feet as he took steps back. Patton caught him by the wrist before he had the chance to fall. Instead of letting him stand on his own, Patton proceeded to pull the boy closer, embracing them in a hug.

“It is a lot to take in.” He whispered, his cheek resting on top of Virgil’s head. “You do not need to say anything now.”

“Lo-Logan… and you! You never lied to me before.” Virgil whined, clutching at Patton’s clothing. “Or… did you?”

“With Logan, I doubt it.” Patton caressed his hair. “These are… unprecedented circumstances. And as I said, I hated lying to you about this. I never did before.”

“It hurts, Pat.” Virgil cried onto the man’s chest. “Why does being lied to hurts so?”

“Mostly,” The man sighed, “because it was from people you care about.”

Shaking his head, Virgil scoffed. “Not Roman, I never cared for him. But Lo… And you!”

“Virgil,” Patton used his hands to push Virgil away to an arm’s length distance, holding him by the shoulders, “You left your art exhibit because he had told you he felt unwell.”

“That was a goddamn lie as well.” Virgil huffed. “I cannot care for liars I just met.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!


	10. isssssa the past now

Twenty years before.

Logan had always arrived at the orphanage at the proper time, he was never late for his volunteer work. Punctuality was his motto, as he liked to claim it. Patton, on the other hand, was running fifteen minutes behind on schedule practically every day. A good, health breakfast first, was his motto.

“Hello.” The first man greeted, from behind the entrance desk, the latter one as he ran inside the building, catching his breath and arching his back over his knees.

“Hello, Logan.” Patton smiled, composing his posture and approaching the man. “I apologize for being so late.”

“I had to replace you in watching over Virgil and Max, once more.” Logan sighed, setting down a clipboard he’d been holding, hanging on only to the pencil. “Must I ask you over and over to be on time?”

“No, I am sorry,” Patton’s shook his head before rubbing the back of his neck. “I will not be tardy again. This time, it is a promise.”

Logan scoffed, turned his back to the man. “We’ll see.”

Watching as his acquaintance walked away, Patton was left with a sinking regretful feeling once more. It seemed he always felt like that around Logan. Maybe the fact he wanted to talk more had something to do with it, or just the fact that he didn’t know what to even talk about with such a man and it became a frustrating thing.

Oh well… he always had the babies Logan mentioned.

“Logan!” Patton ran after him, the smile returning to his face. “Would you mind telling me what happened with the boys today?”

“Virgil and Max?” Logan nodded, scratching under his chin. “Well… something rather… strange occurred with those two today.”

“Oh?” Patton’s eyebrow arched with the interest. “Do tell!”

His acquaintance stopped in the hallway, watching as other volunteers and employees passed by. Shaking his head, Logan licked his lip, drumming his fingers at the side of his face.

“Not here.” He said, grabbing Patton by the arm and pulling him inside the nearest empty room he could find.

“What-” Logan closed the door behind them. “What’s wrong, Logan?”

“I will admit something that I’d much rather not.” He gulped. “But I believe you to care for those babies as much as I do and so I must insist on being truthful about this.” There was a moment of silence dawning over the men, Patton watching with expectancy as Logan fought to get the next words out of his mouth. “I would have not believed it if I did not see if with my own set of eyes, however… an electric current formed between them when they tried touching each other.”

“A- what?” Patton blinked several times, processing the information.

“They are babies, newborns.” Logan proceeded. “It is expected that they play with each other, no?”

“Well, yes but-”

“Expect, that they physically could not.” He continued. “As soon as try tired, a literal jolt of lightning appeared between Max’s hand and Virgil’s face.”

And then it hit Patton, like a sack ton of bricks falling over his head. He’d seen that happening before. Between himself and Logan. It took him just a look at the man’s eyes to see that he remembered it too.

“What do you think that means?” Patton restrained himself from making a pun during such a serious time, because he had about ten different ones.

“I hardly have any hypothesis at the moment.” Logan bit the end of the pencil he’d been holding. “Regardless, I shall do some research… wherever I possibly can.”

“Good.” Patton nodded, suddenly becoming all too aware of one particular fact. “Uh… Logan?”

“Yes?”

“You can let go of my arm now.”

“Oh!” Logan finally looked him in the eyes again, taking his hand away in mere seconds. “I do apologize.”

“It’s not a problem.” Patton smiled, knowing his cheeks were turning red at that point. But it was also accompanied by a rather sudden headache…

“I shall let you know if I find any meaningful answers.” Logan walked past him, grabbing the door. “Goodbye for now.”

“Good-” The man had already left when Patton collapsed to the floor, his voice weakening on the last syllable. “bye-”

His senses became shambled, ringing came to his ears, anything he tongue felt too far away, his eyes focused on nothing. Shivering on the floor, Patton tried calling out for Logan, or anyone else who would heard, but in less than minutes, his voice had become hoarse and weaker. As a cold sensation over took the outer part of his body, Patton’s insides were the hotter he had ever felt. Nothing made sense, and in his mind, he cursed whatever made him feel those contradictory symptoms.

How was he supposed to take care of any of the kids like this?

His eyes were heavy, opening them up took effort that should go into more difficult things, like getting up from bed in cold mornings when your bed felt warm and cozy. There was a moment where Patton wasn’t sure where he lay, but petting around, he found himself on his own bed.

“Patton, my dear!” His mom cried, from the end of it. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” He fought the word out of his throat, “not… too better. How- How did I get back home?”

“One of the volunteers at the orphanage told us they found you passed out on the floor!” She grabbed his hand. “Dearest… why did you never tell us you were ill?”

“I wasn’t!” Patton protested, as loud as he managed to, which was to say, not too at all. “Or… I did not feel like I was…”

“Well… we had the family doctor examine you.” His mother shifted on the bed to face him front to front. “She couldn’t tell us what was wrong with you, however, they said it was bed rest until you felt recovered.”

“But the orphanage!-”

“You cannot take care of small children in this state, Patton.” She insisted, with reason to. “I must get to work now. Will you be alright on your own? There’s food heated for you at the table and if you need assistance, I asked Mr. Freist to keep an eye out through his window.”

“Yes, I-” Patton sighed. “I should be good enough, then.”

His mother gave a concerned smile, grabbing him by both sides of his face to plant a kiss on top of his head. “I did take a shorter shift today, so we will see each other soon. I love you so much, my dear.”

“I love you too, mom.” The care she put into the words plus the kiss made her son feel safe, and even better for a couple of seconds, until she walked out the door.

Now dizziness overtook him, his mind as foggy as the rainiest days. Focusing on the slightest details made his mind scream at him for it. Nothing was tangible, nothing felt real enough.

And what he had told his mother was true, he had left the house without any signs of sickness at all, but as soon as Logan had left him alone in that room… Well, something not good happened. Patton would have just liked to figure out what.

However, his stomach started growling.

His work at the orphanage was early in the morning, but now it was the end of the evening. Patton had spent that entire time without ingesting a single piece of food.

Dragging himself out of bed, Patton leaned on anything close enough to help him walk over to the kitchen. As he sat on the dining table, he had to force himself to stay up right, his body fighting back so he would not. His stomach growled again. However… it took only the lift of the fork to make the idea of eating seem disgusting. His insides hurt, it begged for nourishment, but at the same time, Patton felt as though as when he tried to push something down, it would splash right back up.

So he pushed the plate aside, lying his head on the table, his arms right by his sides, stretched on top of it.

The family doctor hadn’t even prescribed medication. Just how bad was this illness? Was it even a medical condition? Could anything that felt this bad not be some sort of health problem? Patton half hoped the answer to the last question was yes, but then… if it was not a health problem, what was it? And could it be something worse? He wanted to avoid doing down the darker road, but when so many questions were left unanswered, it was a bit harder not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!


	11. buckle up, kiddos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!

Still twenty years before.

Without Patton, the orphanage ran just as smoothly and cleanly as it had always done. Obviously, he wasn’t exactly the powerhouse of the place, he was one volunteer… out of fifteen. But Logan did find himself missing the man after day number too. The absence of good mornings was rather striking, something Logan hadn’t anticipated. Even the lack of corny puns was somehow missable. The ambient seemed a lot heavier and less amiable without the man around.

And apparently, Virgil and Max thought the same, or something similar. The babies cried when they realized Patton wasn’t entering the nursery, and Logan did not know ways to calm them down if it didn’t involve shoving food in their tiny mouths. He was quite attached to those two, but he had no idea how to actually and properly care for them. Not yet anyhow, hopefully working at the orphanage longer would help with that.

They also appeared to still be pretty wary of each other. Max never moved to touch Virgil again, and they didn’t force anything anymore. Somehow, it turned into was a sad sight.

When day four rolled around, Virgil decided he was going to cling onto Logan. The baby didn’t let themselves be put down, hugging the man’s arm with such determination and tight grip that Logan couldn’t help himself from snickering, followed by a smile.

“Can I assist you with something today, Virgil?” He teased. “You know, I am but a very busy man.”

“Logan?” Someone called while Logan attemped to put Virgil on his crib for the umpteeth time.

It was Joan, standing by the door of the nursery. They were the manager there, as evidenced by the clipboard they walked around with, and their uniform that was generally a suit. But this orphanage was pretty small, Joan usually helped out with the children too.

“Yes?” Logan replied, giving up and letting Virgil’s hands cling at his shirt.

“There are two potential new parents at the entrance.” They announced. “Could you please welcome them, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Of course.” He nodded as a reply, carrying the baby to go talk to the potential new parents. “Welcome.” He greeted from behind the counter, the customary smile plastered over his lips. “How may I be of assistance to you?”

“Hi!” Both adults took notice of the little person clinging to Logan first, smiling down at them.

“I am Miranda, and this is my husband Joseph. We are looking to adopt a child.” The chubby woman with brown hair took the lead. “What is this one’s name?”

“Virgil.” Logan tried to show the baby’s face to the couple but they refused to look at them. “They are being especially difficult today.”

“They-?” The man, lean with black hair - a few gray ones sticking out - questioned. “Isn’t it a he?”

“First off,” Logan started, a sense of protectiveness taking over. “They are not an object. Secondly, gender is highly illogical, I am not assigning anything to any of the children here until they are properly informed to decide for themselves and I must warn you that, this is something the manager agrees with.”

“O-Oh,” Joseph had a regretful shine in his eyes, avoiding Logan’s gaze by turning his head away. “I apologize.”

“It is accepted.” With a gentle head bob, Logan took a step aside as he opened the small gate to let the couple inside. “We have children of ages from one to fifteen here. What would be your preference?”

“As young as possible, certainly.” Miranda confirmed with her husband with a shared nod.

“Then I believe you are looking for the nursery.” The place I just freaking left, Logan thought to himself as he led them there.

Hanging back while the couple saw the children in their cribs, Logan stared down at the one in his arms. Virgil was now asleep, his fragile eyelids wavering with the sounds around them. After some minutes, Logan walked towards Max’s crib, where Miranda had her eyes stuck on.

“This is Max.” He told her. “He is one stubborn, extravagant, charming child.”

“He is beautiful.” She wiped away a tear, flapping her hand at Joseph’s direction. “Darling, what about Max?”

“Hm, I am not sure about the name.” He leaned over the crib too, lending a finger that Max grabbed with their tiny hands. “But, I do like him.”

“Adopting means you can change their names, as you see fit.” Logan announced, ignoring the male pronoun. “Do you have any in mind?”

“We’ve always loved the name Roman.” Joseph smiled down at Max before doing the same at his wife. “I want to take him home.”

“Well then,” Logan forced out a smile as a hint of sadness started creeping in, “shall we start the paperwork?”

An hour and a half later, Joseph and Miranda left with Max, who they would later renamed as Roman. A sense of emptiness took hold of Logan, as he watched the three walk out the orphanage’s door. It was lessened a little when Virgil woke up, poking at his face with their pudgy fingers.

“I do not know if you are just shy,” Logan squinted his eyes at the child, “or if you are a mastermind who uses their intelligent for their own desires, and in that case… I respect you.”

For the rest of the day, Virgil remained close him. Logan had other potential new parents coming in, none of which Virgil seemed to want to get to know at all. At the end of his shift, Joan had to physically rip Virgil away from him. The crying child was heard from two block away, and as Logan walked home, that knowledge bothered him.

Until he ran into Patton.

“Patton!” He reacted, grabbing the man by his elbows to keep him falling to the sidewalk. “What are in the universe are you doing out, you are supposed to be in bed!”

His acquaintance took a while to reply, a strange look clouding his expression. Patton’s eyebrows downed into a V shape, his lips retracted, his nose twitched, the man himself seemed a little far away. Logan waved a hand in front of is face but there was no sign of recognition.

“Patton!”

“Logan, I-” He open a bright smile, eyes focusing on the man in front of him. “I feel better. A hundred percent, I am not ill anymore.”

“What?” Logan couldn’t process the information, his worry not disappearing at all. “That is impossible.”

Straightening out his posture, Patton’s hand grabbed at Logan’s lower arm. “It should be! I know! But the minute you touched me, I… all the symptoms vanished, as if blown away by the wind.”

As he shook his head in response, sensing the headache coming his way, Logan pushed Patton in the direction he’d come from. “Regardless, you should have not left your house and now at the moment, we cannot be certain of anything. If you are still feeling well tomorrow, then we will declare you are healthy again.”

“But Logan-”

“Nothing!” The man let out, harsher than they intended due to the pounding at his head. “Return, we shall talk in the morning.”  
“Alright.” Patton nodded, but turned around to face Logan. “Except… you do not look good, Logan.”

“Excuse me, I look fine.” Logan took offense, adjusting his glasses up his nose.

“That… is not what I meant.” Patton blushed, giggling. “I mean, it seems like you do not feel well now. Let me take you home.”

“NooOOoO.” Logan’s voice wavered as he stumbled onto his own feet, pushing Patton forward. “I am capable of… going… on my own…”  
“Hardly!” Patton snapped back, holding Logan who was no barely able to stand on his feet. “Your house is closer than mine as I recall, yes? It is not a long trip.”

“Patton-”

“You don’t have the strength to stop me.” He smiled, the victory stamped on his face. “How fortunate.”

Out of anyone else’s mouth, that would have been the creepiest remark ever. However, Patton was the owner of the voice, and he never had ill meaning intentions. Logan had to remind himself of that, his head getting foggy and his thoughts seemingly making less and less sense.

Patton took the opportunity to grab Logan’s arm and pull it around his own neck, to help him walk. They stopped after just one block.

Knocking on the door, Patton expected his mother, father or any family member to show up at the door. But he was met with silence, and Logan wheezed as he forced out a laugh.

“I live alone.” He grunted, and pushed his hands inside his pouch, handing the house keys to his acquaintance.

With a little bit of difficulty, using only one hand, Patton turned the metal piece and in they went. Logan’s house was tiny, it had one two rooms -those being the kitchen and the living room- and a bathroom. His clothes sat on a large suitcase by the feet of the sofa, all of them meticulously folded. Even so, Logan found it comfortable, but by the look in Patton’s face, he figure the man pitied him.

“This… is more than sufficient,” He hissed as Patton lay him down on the couch, “for me. So please, away with the pity.”

“I’m sorry.” As he apologized, Patton knelt down on the floor, close to the furniture. “It looks rather cozy.”  
“It is.” Logan trembled, suddenly feeling cold. “Uh… I have a blanket, under the sink in the bathroom. Could you get that for me?”

Without a single word, Patton nodded and went to grab the item. He returned seconds later, insisting on tucking Logan in.

“Go home, Patton.” The man demanded. “You are still not cleared yet, you should call your family doctor once more.”  
“I am perfectly fine.” The other emphasized. “You are the ill one here, as of now.”

“Patton-”

“See?” He closed the distance, putting his hand on Logan’s forehead to feel his temperature. It was boiling until… it wasn’t anymore.

Both widened their eyes, Patton pulling his hand back as Logan sat up. They stared at each other for a long while, before Logan declared that he too, was feeling better.

“This is…”

“Unprecedented.” He offered. “Unheard of, impossible, strange, illogical,-”

“Logan-”

He held one finger up. “I have more. Incorrect, abnormal, concerning-

“Logan!” Patton’s hands were now cupping his cheeks, their eyes locked on each other’s. “You’re spiralling. Spiralling is not good.”

As his head inclined down and up again, Logan tried breathing in and out, Patton still holding him. “I do not understand what any of this means.”

“Neither do I.” He offered a grin. “That’s okay.”

“Maybe for yourself!” Logan snapped, even so, not pulling away. “This is the closest situation to hell for me.”

Cocking his head to the side, Patton giggled half-heartedly. “I’ll try not to take offense.” Logan was about to correct himself but the man continued. “We do not always need to understand everything. Do you understand how this world came to be? Why everything is the way it is? Why there is a sun to give us warmth and a moon to light the darkness? There is much I don’t know, Logan. And I doubt you have those answers.”

“I…” Logan bit the inside of his lips, taking some time to admit the truth. “That is correct.”

“Maybe we will be able to find the answer to this.” Patton went on. “Or maybe not. But nothing is stopping us from trying, don’t you think?”

There was a long sigh, coming from Logan. Proceeding, he gently pushed down Patton’s arms.

“Fair enough.” He intertwined his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “Where shall we start?”


	12. uhhh logan bb what u doing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!

We remain twenty years in the past.

“I doubt we shall find the answers for this particular problem in books.” Logan commented as they stepped inside a library.

At that time in the morning, the place was seemingly empty if you could discount the actual librarian. Patton had suggested they see it that day, as early as possible, seeing as neither had work or volunteering do engage themselves in. Logan agreed to do it, with doubts in mind but now there they were.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Patton prompted, walking backwards in front of him.

“Well,” The one with darker brown hair sigh, picking at his bottom lips, “not at the moment. I will comply for now.”

“Thank you!” Lighter brown hair smile before turning to see where he was headed. “I figured we could check something in the diseases section. That’s essentially what we went through, no?”

“A lot of diseases have unknown causes, so yes, I’d say that isn’t a far-fetched assumption…” Logan searched for said section within the shelves. However, Patton grabbed his wrist before he could find.

“It is here!” The man whispered, pulling the other along to the farthest corridor from the entry. “Do you remember the symptoms?”

“High fever,” Logan started listing, “strong headaches, sensations of heat inside the body, dizziness, physical weakness, dry throat…” He shook his head. “Numerous known diseases have one or two or more of those, however… none that I recall has all of them.”

“I cannot think of one either.” Patton bit the inside of his lip, running his fingers through the selections of book on eye level. “But there must be something!”

“We start by elimination.” Dark brown suggested, stepping closer to the shelf. “We pick no books with diseases we know lack any of the symptoms. I shall be on the other side, when you finish gathering your collection, we meet at that,” Logan pointed at he referred to, “table.”

Nodding only once, Patton immediately turned back to the shelf, searching. Following the example, Logan circled the furniture and started the process from that selection.

Hours later, both man had at least three piles of books sitting on the table in front of them. They towered of them, challenging and provoking.

“Obviously we won’t see all of this today.” Patton side eyed Logan.

“Obviously.” The man agreed. “However, it should be slightly easier if we simply continue with elimination. As soon as you read a piece of information that does not pertain to our case, I’d assume it is safe to discard the disease as a possibility.”

“Yes.” Patton nodded, sitting down and picking the top book from the pile closest to him. “This could be fun, and informative.”

“Informative, more than anything, I’d expect.” Logan did exactly the same, on the other end of the table. “Good reading, Patton.”

“Good reading, Logan.”

Each man managed to get through one pile and a half before the librarian attempted to inform them that the library would be closing soon.

“Is it nine thirty already?” Logan questioned, eyes closed to a book.

“Not precisely.” The woman answer. “It shall be in fiv-”

“Then please, kindly allow us to stay for the remainder of that time.” Logan actually stared at her as he pleaded. “We promise to leave as soon as the clock strikes closing time.”

Sighing, she caved in before walking away. “I am taking for your word for it.”

“Logan, five minutes i-”

“Plenty of time if we do not spent it conversing among ourselves.” Dark brown returned to his reading, as Patton nodded and did the same.

In the end, it really wasn’t too much additional time. Logan hadn’t finished his book, while Patton barely had his. Having memorized the names of all the ones they failed to get to before they stepped outside, Logan let out a breath, rubbing his eyes repeatedly before throwing his head back.

“Logan, we’ll have more time to search.” Patton comforted, with a hand on the man’s shoulder to stop him. “And we are not fighting a clock, nothing is at stake.”

“Except for my sanity.” Logan huffed, an amused smile spreading across his face. “See, Patton, topics that pertain to my health and security and life, that I do fail to understand bother me more than I am able to admit. Knowledge is how we are able to do anything at all, in life. Without it, we are merely empty shells of wondering vessels. And it is not a particularly good feeling to have.”

“I know.” Light brown sympathized. “But we will get there, eventually.”

“You cannot know that.” Dark brown protested, pulling away from Patton’s grip. “We might never get any of the information we want because sometimes that is just how everything works. You said it yourself yesterday, there is much we don’t know, and maybe we are supposed to never know.”

“Are you telling me,” Patton caught up to him, “you are willing to give up at this point?”

“No.” Logan shook his head. “All I am saying, is that this search may go on forever. And I do not want to waste the little time we have on Earth on this. So there will be a point when I am, in fact, willing to give up.”

“Logan…”

“Excuse me.” He cleared his throat, stepping to the left on a crossroads. “I believe this is where we part ways.”

“I won’t let it get to the point where you give up, Logan.” Patton declared as the man walked away. “This is important to you.”

Watching as his acquaintance disappeared in the horizon with the streets dimly lit, Patton promised himself he’d seen the matter through. If not for himself, only for Logan, who would not have peace of mind until he had at least some answers.

Monday came, and it was Patton’s shift on the orphanage. It was also the rare day of the week when Logan didn’t go in to volunteer. The place and work on that specific day had always felt a little bit different without the man’s presence, even before this… whatever it was that was happening with them. But now, Patton felt it like it was truly devoid of something that only Logan carried with him, and no one else in the entire world could have.

Every individual is unique and complex in their own ways. It’s why people tend to attract different… people. What works for one, may not work for someone else. What endears one, may not endear someone else. Logan endeared Patton more than he wanted to let on, specially to the man himself. And the feeling just became stronger, the closer they got.

“Patton.” Joan pulled him out from his own, spiralling thoughts, rather too suddenly, as they stood next to the entrance counter. “The nursery needs you.”

“Oh,” Patton shook his head to himself before smiling, “thank you, Joan, I’m going right now!”

On his way, he found himself with the urge to cry. An overwhelming emotion that crashed over him and enveloped him whole, tugging and tugging, breaking all his heart string apart. And it was weird, out of nowhere, senseless. It also made Patton feel like he was slightly floating, but in such a way that scared him.

He fought it. The children in the nursery didn’t need to deal with that, even though they were all infant and wouldn’t really register whatever Patton was doing.

When he got to Virgil’s crib, he grabbed the baby and rocked them in his own arms. The gesture seem to calm down both Virgil and the man holding him. So he set them down, watching as they slept with a thumb on their mouth. Patton giggled before moving on to the next crib…

Which was supposed to be Max’s. But another baby set there instead, this one barely had hair while Max had a head full of brown strands, and green eyes contrasting with Max’s deep dark brown, an almost black.

Finishing his job with the children, Patton forced the panic in his heart to restrain itself. Only when he was done, did he run through the orphanage’s corridors, looking for Joan. He called the person’s name numerous times, before they actually responded.

“Yes?” They asked, staring down at their clipboard.

“Did Max get adopted?” Patton shot the question.

“Yes.” Joan flipped through some pages, before stopping on the bottom one. “Exactly two days ago.”

“Really?” Tears filled the younger one’s eyes. If they were of happiness or sadness, he couldn’t decide.

“A lovely couple came by, Logan dealt with them.” The manager nodded. “Though, the baby’s name is now Roman.”

“Do…” Patton shied away from the question for just one second. “Do you think they’ll make a good family?”

“Seemed so.” Joan shrugged, turning around. “I accessed them myself before directing Logan to them.”

Implying that they wouldn’t have let the couple take Max, now Roman, if he didn’t think they were good people. And Joan was usually very thorough. At least that relieved a bit of the tears.

“Logan.” Patton knocked on the man’s door.

Once… twice… three times…

As he twisted his wrist for a fourth knock, Logan opened the entrance and stared at him. “Yes, Patton?”

“Why…” The man forced the threaning tears at bay at again. “Why did you never tell me Max- Roman- got adopted?”

“It was not particularly relevant to any of the conversations we’ve had since then.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on his doorway.

“Yes, but I… “ Patton gulped with dropped shoulders. “I still would’ve liked to know.”

“We would all like to know a lot of things.” Dark brown responded, with a rather bitter tone.

“It is not my fault that we don’t!” Light brown fired back. “You could have just informed me. If I had any knowledge about our situation, I would have sought you from the moment I was informed myself.”

“Pardon me if I do not believe your words.” Logan’s jaw atrophied, as he averted his gaze. “We are not that well acquainted.”

“You have known me for well over three years.” Patton shot, hands clenched at his sides. “I think you are just stressed, lashing out and saying things you don’t mean. So I will not take any of this to heart. I sincerely hope you have a good day, Logan.”

He left a slightly stunned man at his own house’s entrance, perhaps with a doubt in mind as well. And while Patton had said one thing, Logan’s words had penetrated deep enough, prompting back the crying and the senseless overwhelming emotion of frustration. He wondered just how long it could last, after he got home and nothing changed.


	13. shIT HAS EXPLANATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!

We still remain twenty years in the past.

Restless. Logan could not get even one full minute of shut eye that night. Perhaps the fight with Logan had enticed guilt, or perhaps the lack of information still bothered the irrational part of his brain. Either way, it compromised his sleep schedule.

Waking up in the middle of the night seemed like a new experience for the man. He hadn’t done it since he was a small child and lacked the self control to refrain himself from keeping up a healthy pattern. Not even after his parents death, did Logan lose that ability. Aside from downright frustrating, it was ever so slightly disconcerting.

While he was usually sound asleep in his bed by midnight, his living room grandfather clock showed he was out of bed at the ripe hour of two in the morning. His mom had always preached that nothing good ever happened after that hour. Logan had always figured it was simply one of his parental figures trying to scare a child Logan into going to bed early, as children should. But as he wandered over to their shop, his eyelids weighted down heavily. Being as tired as he was while going near sharp edged swords might not be a good combination. Part of him knew that, but it was the mild and small part of him that failed to feel as spent as the rest of him was. And the rest was the bigger part, obviously, that ignored all logic and pushed Logan to find other ways to put him to sleep.

His house’s kitchen was merely across from the sword’s shop entrance. He took the wrong turn, entering the room with the unlit fireplace, full of stones, and other craft materials. Blinking his eyes several times, Logan leaned on the nearby table with his elbows. As he ran his hands through his hair, he lowered his head closer to the designs that remained there. Some of them were his parents, while the messier ones, still unfinished were his. He hadn’t managed to finish a single one since their deaths.

With a heavy sigh, Logan forgot the idea of grabbing a hot glass of milk to help him sleep. Instead, he picked up his designs and the quill, after dipping it in ink. If he had time to ponder of his mistakes and frustrate himself over lack of answers, he had time to actually get work done.

By the time the sun was setting, Logan had finished five designs, putting them to dry on the same table he had been working on for the past five hours. After he was done, Logan dragged himself to his bed and lied there, unmoving. Part of him yelled at him to get the fuck up, it was his day to volunteer at the orphanage, but an overwhelming more powerful part seemed to push him down on that bed. So that is where he stayed up until after his eyes could help themselves no longer, and the owner of them fell asleep.

A few knocks on the door didn’t wake Logan up. Rocks hitting his window did nothing either. Not even the sound of a chicken clucking near by managed to do the trick. What did help, was his own body, telling him it was time to open his eyes. The grandfather clock from before showed it was merely three in the afternoon. And there were furious costumes waiting outside the shop.

Can none of them fucking read? I left the sign of closed out front.

Approaching the commotion, still in his night clothes, Logan opened the front door.

“-inrealiable place, I cannot-”

“-an order placed months ago-

“-told everyone a mere eighteen year old-”

The crowd directed the shouting at Logan, who plugged his fingers into his ears for a while, waiting for them to stop. When nothing happened, Logan decided to yell out himself. It worked, getting him the people’s attention.

“My age has little to do with my ability to run my parent’s shop, for starters.” He crossed his arms over his chest, using one finger to point at the door. “Did none of you see the sig-”

The door didn’t have it. It was signless, and bare. Logan caught a glimpse of the piece of paper on the floor, at the feet of a few people in the crowd. He knelt down and grabbed it, making them step back.

“This,” He waved it around a little and slammed it against the door, “belongs here. And I did not take it from this spot. Your anger is wasted on someone blameless. But the shop is still closed. Come back tomorrow if you’d like, and I’ll sort through anything you need.”

With that, Logan closed the door in a dozen unamused faces. The crowd eventually dispersed, relief a weight from the owner’s chest. There went one less thing to worry about…

At least, for the next couple of minutes, silence reigned. Until there were more knocks at the door.

“I said the shop is clooooos-” His words trailed off when he saw Patton standing outside the door, holding sheets of paper that amounted to an entire book.

“I found something.” His friend smiled, like the fight from the day before had never happened at all.

“Seems like an awful more than just one thing.” Logan stepped aside, letting Patton in, who raced to set the papers down on the counter.

“It is.” He turned around, beaming. “You might want to read this.”

“Patton, first, I must do something else.” Logan started, rubbing his eyes and the back of his neck as he approached the man.

“It can wait, Logan!” Patton insisted. “See-”

“No, I do not believe it can.” The one with darker brown hair sighed, unsure of how to proceed. “I should not have snapped at you the way I did last night. It was unfair of me, and even though Max- Roman’s adoption was hardly something we should have discussed at that time, I understand that you cared deeply about h-”

“Logan, with all due respect and love, I do not care about that!” Patton shook his head, grabbing Logan by his hands. “Not right not! We can talk about that later, you just really need to read what I brought.”

Patton squeezed Logan’s palms, tempting the man to pick up the material. Something traveled from that end to the rest of Logan’s body. He couldn’t name it, regardless of how much he tried. But it was a feeling that left him with a sense of peace and… seemed to make him less tired.

“Just… let me apologize, Patton.” Logan gulped, holding the man’s hands with care as he avoided his gaze. “I am sorry. You did not deserve my harsh words.”

“I know, and I meant what I said yesterday.” Patton turned around, letting go of Logan so he could pick up a page on the top of the mini tower of papers and extended it to Logan. “I take your apologizes, as long as you just read this.”

“Is this about our illness problem?” Logan arched an eyebrow at him, grabbing the piece with suspicion.

“Yes!” Patton yelled out, visibly excited. “Just read!!”

Spending another minute to stare at Patton, ready to find any signs of anything other than insistence, Logan was unsure why he didn’t want to give in. Maybe the lack of answers for such a long time made him think nothing that came this easy was worth his time. But indeed, he finally directed his eyes towards the paper.

The Soulmate Curse. That was the title, as well as the only thing written in the entire page. In italics and underlined.

“Patton…” Logan called with a careful edge to his voice. “What exactly is this?”

Is response, the other man turned his gaze to the pile of papers he’d brought over.

“Where did you even get all of this?” The one with darker brown hair shook his head slightly, approaching the counter.

“Question for another time.” Patton answered, positioning himself right next to Logan. “I haven’t read anything yet beside that page just yet. I wanted us to do this together, as we started.”

Something about that phrase gave the blacksmiths’s son joy. He appreciated the amount of thought Patton seemed to have put into their entire situation, happy that he was not left out from possible discoveries. Logan might have just easily left Patton in the dark, at least until he himself had read through everything.

“Together, then.” He nodded at the man, smiling. “Thank you, Patton.”


	14. ugh i wouldn't want to have a soulmate if i had to go through this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment

Still in the past, buddy.

**PRIMAL SYMPTOMS**

**Strong headaches**

**Dizziness**

**Sensations of heat and cold at the same time**

**Weakness in legs**

**INTRODUCTION**

**Why call it a curse, you ask? Well, we do not know what else to call it.**

Both man started their reading, eyeing each other from the corners as they got to that passage. It sounded so ominous, but it was nothing short of the truth. And from a reader’s standpoint, it was also intriguing.

**My symptoms first began when my current partner, Remy, touched me for the first time. Not too long after, I found myself confined to a bed, feeling the worst I have ever felt in my life. Months went by, no doctor who saw me knew what was wrong with my health. And nothing changed until Remy came to visit, and rest the back of his hand on my forehead. Then, everything went away. I felt healthy and normal once more, as if I had been magically cured of every single symptom that had tormented during all those weeks.**

“Like what happened to me.” Patton took the time to comment, biting the inside of his lip as he stared at Logan. “Except for me it was only a day.”

His friend agreed with a firm nod before turning his attention to the papers again. He started reading the next part out loud.

**A little later on, I touched Remy for the first time, helping him up after he had fallen down. He became sick immediately. I visited him at home the next day, held his hand for a mini second, and he was healthy again.**

**Conclusion? The first touch causes the symptoms while the following one cures them.**

**Now, the question is why?**

**In this book, we are analyzing similar stories. Many encounters I’ve had with the same results as my own. In the end, I hope to reach an understanding of this.**

“Someone actually did the research…” Logan whispered to himself, leaning on the table they sat. “We spent so much time looking for this…” He turned to face Patton, with a dumbfounded expression. “Where in the world did you find it?”

“Well…” The man held his tongue at the roof of his mouth as he begin the rather short story.

Patton had woken up that say with a sense of… absence, clinging at his chest. Even on his way to the orphanage, he wondered what was it that he missed. And if it had to do with the fight from the previous night.

Greeting Joan with his usual wave and smile, Patton failed to notice Logan wasn’t behind the counter before he was. That has almost been an established rule between the two. Logan was always either early or on time, whereas Patton was not. Only when he was directed to the nursery, his mind remembered. And as he looked around, he couldn’t find Logan anywhere else.

“Joan?” He called out, holding a sleepy Virgil in his arms.

“Yeah?” The manager peeked their head through the doorframe.

“Where’s Logan?” Patton questioned, holding the baby close to his chest.

“No idea.” The manager shrugged. “He hasn’t shown up yet. If you see him, tell him to come to me immediately.”

“Will do.” Light brown nodded, watching the person disappear behind the walls. Next, he lowered his head. “What do you think is going on with Lo, huh, kiddo? I’m worried.”

Obviously, he did not get a response. As he lower Virgil onto their crib, Patton took a moment to admire the child. He seemed to quiet… Surely, he was asleep and couldn’t make any normal baby noises.

“Patton!” Joan called, not too much later, pulling him from the transe.

“I’m coming!” The man sprinted towards the voice, which lead him towards the entrance of the orphanage. “I’m here, what can I do?”

“This is Mr. Picani and Mr. Sanders.” Joan made a swift movement to his left with their arm, introducing his employee to the two old men standing at the entrance.

One wore a neutral colored vest with a blue tie tucked under it, also with glasses to frame his face, all accompanied by a large one strapped leather bag. His companion used black tights and a big wool sweater, grinning at the first man as he took a whiff of the cup of coffee he held in his hand.

“Hello.” Patton beamed at them as a way of greeting.

“Hello, Patton.” The one with the vest spoke. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Eh…” The man sideeyed his manager. “Joan?”

“Of course.” They complied. “Just avoid taking too long, yeah?”

And they left with that, without waiting for an actual answer. Proceeding on his own, Patton walked from behind the counter to the front to meet the gentlemen.

“Please,” he motioned to a couple of chairs they had by the left side of the room, “sit. What is it that you would like to talk about?”

“It has come to my attention that you’ve been searching about a specific topic?” Picani questioned.

“How-”

“We went to the library.” Sanders replied, cutting him off. “They said you were looking into diseases.”

“Well, that… yes.” Patton nodded. “Why does that interest you?”

“Can you first tell me what, exactly, you were looking for?” Picani leaned on his own legs, ready to listen closely.

“Uh, my friend and I were having an issue.” The younger one started, rubbing the back of his back. “And it was nothing either of us had been through before or even heard of. We chose to look for answers in books.”

Both visitors shot a glance at each other before Picani cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He proceeded to grab his leather bag and open it, pulling a stack of pages out.

“I think we have something that be may of interest for you both.” He extended the block to Patton, who held it and read the first page out loud.

“Soulmates?” He questioned, voice cracking.

“Yes, that is my theory.” The older man replied, smiling as he held hands with Sanders. “I spent many years writing that, Patton. And I believe it to be one of my greatest accomplishments. I sincerely hope it helps you and your friend.”

A stunned Patton was left in his seat, as the older gentlemen moved towards the exist. Except, Patton snapped out of it fast, holding the manuscript close to his chest.

“WAIT!” He called out, going after them. “Can you just- give me this? I cannot accept it like this, won’t you ever need it again?”

“I have a copy at home, not to worry.” Picani beamed. “You make good use of this one. Goodbye, Patton.”

“Byebye!” His companion waved on their way out.

“Good…bye…” The younger boy replied, way after the men had disappeared taking a left turn outside.

Logan started at him for a solid minute before speaking. Even then, he took a few more seconds to squint his eyes.

“Are you telling me that you were just handed this?” He inquired. “Exactly how you described it?”

Patton giggled. “I know, it seemed surreal to me right there when he gave it to me! But I swear to all the gods, Lo, he just handed it me, saying he hoped it would help us.”

“Help us?!” Logan laughed, something his friend was sure to have never seen before, as he also slid his fingers back in his hair. “This… This is everything we were looking for. They saved us years of research, uncertainty, frustration… I do not believe in angels, however, this man might have been one.”

Smiling, Patton turned his whole body towards his friend. “Possibly.” His lips curled into a thin line as he said the next thing. “Though, Logan… You do see that this is telling us we’re soulmates?”

“It is a possibility.” Dark brown nodded, scratching his chin. “Then again, I do not believe in such thing. And, we have not yet reached the ending of this book.” A grin spread on his face. “I am curious to see other stories and the collected data.”

“Surely.” Light brown took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, he saw his friend had already returned his attention to the manuscript, reading the rest without him. Patton had other worries and if Logan reached the end of that book, still refusing to think they were destined to each other or something along those lines… it might just break his little heart.

“Lo?” He called.

“Huh?” Logan raised his eyebrow and nothing else to indicate he was listening.

“You go ahead and read this without me.” Patton slipped out of the seat, already moving towards the exist. “I am feeling very tired. I’ll come get the manuscript later on, alright?”

“Of course.” Dark brown replied with a mumble, as his friend opened the front door and left.

Well now he had done it. Patton had fallen for the one man who’s never reciprocate anyone’s romantic feelings.


	15. patton's precious, duh

Past, still.

Logan sat in the chair for hours. He finished the manuscript with a sniff, a cold reaching and breaching his immune system. Though that side effect was not listed in the book, others were. And things that he and Patton shared, as he noticed. There was a lot more to be said, especially since Remy and Emile’s story was not the only one made public with the book. Other couples has similar experiences and the writer, Emile, wrote about many of them. With very few slight differences, each and every story ended on the same note. The couples eventually fell in love and became romantic partners.

Except, Logan thought, himself and Patton were certainly an exception themselves! Logan was in no search for romance and he did not have such feelings for Patton, as he was sure Patton to feel the same.

Reading the manuscript that certainly been useful to some degree, and to Logan it had been rather an enjoyable read, but as far as he knew, the end results were not a reality for him.

The next day, he walked to the orphanage with the papers in hand. At some point during his reading last night, he’d noticed his friend had left him alone to it. Patton never got to read more than just the couple first pages.

Meeting the man insane, Logan handed the manuscript with a smile. “I came to my own conclusions about our situation but I’d rather you have a read and come to your own before we discuss any further. What do you say?”

“Wow,” Patton giggled, holding the pages, “you’re already done?”

“Well, of course.”

He blinked at this and nodded, replying with a low voice. Lower than his usual pitch, at least. “Uh… sure. I’ll just read this after work.”

And with that, he walked to the locker room, putting the manuscript inside his bag.

Patton had always been a hopeless romantic, so when Logan had appeared this morning with the book at the entrance with such a smile, that was unusual for the an, Patton thought… Well, he thought… Maybe Logan was going to confess his feelings and those feelings would be that of love. A tiny part of him believed that, the part of him that wished that was the case. But a larger part of him, the more racional and emotionally intelligent part of him thought, that no. The smile in Logan’s face has to be about something else, something to do with his own theories on the matter. And he had been exactly right. It didn’t make him feel as good as he was lead to believe.

The rest of the day, Patton spent trying to avoid his friend. He dodged through every corner, every open area and space he caught a glimpse of Logan. Though the orphanage was hardly big enough for him to stay out of sight forever. Specially when him and Logan worked on Virgil’s case together. Among with a few other babies, but those are not important to the story.

Patton had been the first one to jump into call when the small child had started crying after a… not nearly long enough nap. The man held the baby up and shushed him gently, rocking him back and forth and that’s when his co-volunteer came in.

“I got it, Lo.” Patton made sure to smile.

“Are you quite sure?” The man asked as he cocked his head to the side, watching little Virgil pull Patton’s hair.

“Loudly sure.” The man giggled with his own joke, grabbing the baby’s hands.

Before replying, Logan squinted his eyes in suspicion. “Alright then.” He proceeded to  leave them alone inside the nursery.

“Oh kiddo.” Patton rocked Virgil back and forth in his arms, as gently as he could manage, listening as the cries died down. “I am doomed.”

At home, the man opened his bag to get the manuscript. Heavy as it was, Patton felt a wave of admiration towards Logan for being able to read it in one night. He himself surely would need at least an entire day.

best get started as fast he could then.

After dinner, Patton dropped the pages on the desk inside his room. As he sat in front of it, light coming solemnly from the candle by the window, Patton began to fear the contents of the book. He had this image of his relationship with Logan in his head for so long, what would happen to him if the book told him it had to be otherwise? Wasn’t that what Patton had wanted though? But he knew Logan enough to think that the book could be wrong.

He flipped the first page open, looking at the table of contents. First, obviously, was the introduction. Next part was titled Remy and Emile’s story. Other parts were other couple’s names. Then there was a general analysis and a conclusion. Patton got half way through the pages before putting out the flame, letting his head down on the desk and snoozing off.

Waking up to the sun light coming from outside, Patton had to remind himself that that day was not his to work as a volunteer on the orphanage. And until the end of the week, he’d have no obligations there whatsoever. But he could get through two days of it, of course he could.

And to spend those fourth eight hours, he could start by going to the kitchen and having breakfast with his mother and grandparents. Doing so never failed to put a smile on his face,  anyhow. He left the table with a cheery disposition… and a whole croissant in his mouth. Finally he actually felt eager to continue his late night read.

By night fall, Patton reached the ending. The last line struck him like a thousand bricks falling from the sky and at his head. We live to make human connections, so why should it hard to believe those are more than just our own feelings?

Because it’s not, it shouldn’t be… Patton himself didn’t have much problems believing it. But maybe Logan did. That is what Patton was most afraid of. Not even for himself but if Logan lived his life believing those human connections didn’t matter, as it seemed like it was his current state, that those added nothing to his life… than what a sad one would be live.


	16. someone's clingy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave a comment!

It’s still the past alright.

Logan had asked to keep the manuscript. He stated that as fascinating as it was, he felt like he himself could work with it and go beyond the original premise. Patton gladly let him have the book, but later wondered if that would be good for the man’s mental health. Knowing him, even as little as he did then, Logan could surely spend hours of his days rewriting and revising the themes, taking little to no care of himself at all. Not that he could actually voice his concerns with having the other be angry at him for it. Instead, he resorted to silently watching and stepping in when necessary. And for one week, entire seven days, the opportunities didn’t present themselves.

No bags under Logan’s eyes, no inattentiveness, no coughs or sniffs or sneezes, no nothing that Patton could have deemed as a sign of Logan being weak or too tired. The man had even volunteered for babysitting Virgil more often, which he usually avoided because of how clingy the child was.

Once Patton passed by the nursery, and stopped at the sheer sound of laughter. He was mesmerized to see that it came from Logan, with Virgil’s tiny hands grabbing his nose and making funny noises. Of course the scene was adorable, and the act itself would be described as endearing by any who watched it. But the minute Logan noticed the other standing by the door, with a grin at his lips, he put Virgil back inside his crib and cleared his throat and stepped away, as if something about what he had been doing was shameful and should not be addressed.

“Virgil is a happy kid.” Patton commented from his spot. “I’m glad you’re experiencing it more, Logan.”

“I-” The man cleared his throat yet again, adjusting his glasses. “Well, it is my duty, I am only doing my job.”

“Right.” Patton nodded. “I think Joan was asking for you at the front desk.”

“Why did you not lead with that?!” Logan ran past him as Patton shrugged with a smirk.

“Logan, I need you to talk to some potential parents again.” Joan announced after Logan found them at the lobby. They stepped aside to reveal a couple behind them, two women. “This is Eleanor and Michelle.”

“Hello.” Logan bowed ever so slightly and held his hands behind his back. “How may I help you today?”

“We’d love to adopt a child, a baby, if possible.” The taller one spoke first.

“Our nursery is this way.” Logan leaded them into the room. “We have Virgil, over there with my colleague Patton-” He pointed at the two before entering the area with the cribs. “And these three-” He said the names, “Most couples do look for the younger children.” and explained.

“Of course.” The shorter woman replied. “They’re the most adorable…”

“Ah… yes-” Logan shot. “Please, take your time. Call me when you’ve reached a decision.”

With that, he left the couple to play and watch the babies, walking towards Patton. As he got closer, baby Virgil leaned to his side, asking to go to his arms.

“Oh-” Logan grabbed the child.

“He is really getting attached to you.” Patton smiled at the sight.

Shaking his head, the other replied. “I do not know why.”

“Babies don’t really need a reason.”

“How about Virgil?” They heard one of the ladies whispering.

“I’m not sure.” Her partner answered. “He seems so comfortable in the volunteer’s arms…”

“They,” Logan raised his voice, “please. Virgil is up for adoption, I assure you.”

The women straightened their backs, nodding. One of them had one of their fingers inside a baby’s tiny hand.

“I think…” She looked down at them, shaking her hand up and down slowly. “This one. Eleanor,” she turned to the other woman. “What do you think?”

“Well…” Eleanor smiled with teary eyes. “It’s… perfect.”

“I am glad both are happy. Please proceed to the front desk, I shall be there in a moment.”

“Lo-”

As the women left the nursery, Logan tried to give Virgil back to Patton. The baby clung his clothes, small hands clutching.

“Virgil-”

“Come on, Virge.” Patton ticked the young child, making them burst out in laughter and relax their hands. “It’s nappy time.”

With arms free, Logan directed himself towards the lobby again and attended the couple. They signed the forms, read through everything, and took their new baby home. All the while, Logan itched to get home and continue his work on the manuscript. On his way out, Patton met him at the front doors.

They said their goodbyes to their fellow volunteers and coworkers and walked home together in silence. Although, half way through, Patton turned to Logan to say the most preposterous thing-

“Lo, why don’t you adopt Virgil?”

Without missing a beat, the man replied in monotone. “Why would I?”

“Well, they seem to love you quite a lot.” Patton started, cokcing his head to the side as he spoke. “And you’re enjoying your time taking care of him too, you cannot deny that!”

“I cannot take care of a child either, Patton.” Logan shot. “I am hardly equipped for it.”

“You make it sound like taking care of a child is a sport.” Patton argued. “Of course it isn’t easy, but you’re so good with the babies at the orphanage so I thought…”

“So are you.” Logan shrugged. “Why don’t you adopt Virgil yourself?”

“I-” The other man gulped, straying away to the left, where he needed to take a turn to go to his own house. “I’m sorry, Logan, I didn’t mean to upset you with the conversation.”

“Who says I am upset?” Logan shoves his hands inside the pockets of hi pants. “I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Patton.”

Taking a deep breath, the other nods. “Goodnight, Logan.”

In truth, that would admit to no single soul alive ever, Logan saw no value in forming another bond with a human being. Life was fleeting, he’d witnessed that first-hand and for some people, it ended too early. Why bother if all you’re going to get is heartbreak? No, Logan would much rather sit with the soulmate curse book and figure out all the things the author might’ve done wrong. He would much prefer stare down at some hundred pages for hours and get more theories, get more thoughts and create more hypothesis. Maybe even work on a couple of his old sword designs, which were in definite need to reworks. Use his brain for something other than actual human interactions.

That, he believed, was a better use of his time.


	17. y'all will want to beat up logan in this one

Still back in the past, babes.  
  
Right after that argument, Logan let himself go. No more attempting to pretend he was exhausting, attempting to present that all he wanted to actually do was stay in bed and have one that was entirely useless and unproductive. Usually, he’d never get to that point but circumstances were abnormal. And the idea that Patton, happy silly over the top Patton, was what one classified as his soulmate, never left his mind. It was a constant bother that nagged at him at every turn, making Logan wish, for the first time ever since he could recall, that his brain would simply shut up.

The book was wrong, the author was wrong, Logan’s doubts where all wrong. He had no space for a romantic partner in his life and he never would. There were more important things than romantic love, and he could - actually he wanted to - live without it. 

Logan would have stayed in his bed for the next entire week if two of those days weren’t occupied with his volunteering at the orphanage. Thursday was the first day of that week and things ran smoothly, mostly because Patton was not present. On Friday though, the man had his duties to attend as well. With Virgil on his arms, Logan prepared to avoid his coworker at all costs. He didn’t need the awkward conversation, the apologies or the remarks about him and the child he held. Virgil was a nice child, quiet, unlike most, which was something Logan at least admitted to liking. And despite what he told Patton and himself the week prior, he was starting to feel affection for the infant. But he knew he needed to detach himself soon, because Virgil would get adopted one way or the other, and he’d probably never see them again. So when the baby grabbed at his arms while he tried to set them down in their crib, Logan simply loosened the grip and let the crying begin. 

Hearing Patton’s voice out in the hall, Logan took the other door out and avoided him all together. 

 

“Shhhh…” Patton caressed Virgil’s head gently as he shushed the crying child. “I’m here, Virge, what do you want, huh? Are you hungry? Are yo-“

His eyes found the second door of the nursery opened, the one that lead to the hallway closest to Joan’s office, all the way back of the orphanage. And he swear, maybe it was someone else, but he swore that the the glimpse of black hair he saw taking a left turn belonged to Logan. And that’s when he understood with Virgil sobbed like well.. the baby that they were.

“You know Virge,” Patton grabbed Virgil, holding them close to his chest, “Logan likes you a whole lot, he’s just too stubborn and set in his ways to let other people see it.” He stared out into the hall, as if waiting for the man to barge in and contest him. It didn’t happened. “I still think he won’t give up on you though, just as you haven’t given up on him. Alright?”

The tears didn’t cease with the speech, they did however, slowed down a bit. Virgil’s face was only completely dry when Patton decided to give him some lukewarm milk. A little after that, the child closed their eyes and went to sleep. 

The rest of the day was uneventful until the very end of his shift. That’s when he finally managed to bump into Logan, who he knew was trying to avoid him all day. Logan was rushing through the front doors when Patton caught him to him, smiling at the man.

“Hellooo-“ his word fell flat at the sight of his coworker’s face.  
Swollen cheeks, bloodshot eyes, dark bags under it, messy hair… the absence of a tie! Logan had never looked more exhausted. 

“Oh my-“ Patton held his hands in front of his mouth as Logan rolled his eyes and tried to walk past him. “Lo, you have to go home and sleep now, I can stay with you overnight if you want, I don’t want to leave you alone when you seem like you could be falling sick any minute! I’ll make you something to eat, co-“

“I do not need your assistance, Patton!” The man snapped, eyelids weighing down to contradict his statement. “That is, in fact, the last thing I need right now.”

“But-“

“You are extremely annoying, do you know that?” Logan shot, staring down at him. “All you have success is doing is giving me a headache! I did not wish for your help, but I do wish for your disappearance from my life. Your… your sweet kind act confuses me seeing as you have literally no reason to care for me the way you seem to, which leads me to believe you do not at all. It leads me to believe that this, to you, is just a way to make others like you and a way to make you feel good about yourself because oh my you simply cannot leave a sick person by themselves! I am exhausted of this, I cannot take another minute of it, so if you’ll please let me be on my way, you shall never have to pretend to care for me again.”

Silence fell for a few seconds and Logan started walking past Patton. He didn’t let him go without having the last word.

“I thought you’d know this thing called empathy.” He said, staring ahead. “I’m sorry I was wrong.”  
  
  
By the time Logan reaches his house, he had been limping half the way. Going places when you’re mind is wandering somewhere else makes you bump into objects, apparently. Logan hadn’t known the feeling before, he was usually focused. But his mind clouded more and more from how tired he felt. Wobbling his way up to his room, he was reminded that his birthday was arriving soon. Twenty one years of life, three of those without his parents, or anyone he could call family. He thought it was the best after their death. 

All he cared for now was his job in his parents store and as a volunteer at the orphanage, in that order. 

However due to his current state, it would be best for him not to overexert himself. The rest of the week he was free from the volunteering position but the job, supposedly had to open that night and the next morning, evening and night as well. Logan would allow himself to rest for the current moment only, and then first thing he would do after waking up the next day was going to be flipping the card at the store’s entrance. Customers would surely be elated enough after last week’s fiasco. Logan hoped it would satisfy them.   
As he lay in bed, sleep took over. Soon, the man was quietly breathing in bed, eyes closed and mind at rest.

 

The door creaking open managed to ring in Logan’s ears in such a way that left him with a headache. Turning the sign hanging on it made his arm feel heavy and the costumer that stepped inside twenty minutes later shouted, even though his speaking volume was normal. As much as he had slept the night before, Logan did not feel rested at all.

While the store received its daily influx of visitors, the owner worked on a few designs here and there when the shop was completely empty. Not a lot of people visited or bought things at Logan’s store that often. He sold swords and metals, and as far as he knew, no one was going off to wars any time soon. His mind often wandered, unable to focus. Eventually, Logan pushed the papers off his desk and left them there, unwilling to organize them. Patience was the last thing he had at that moment.

At night, he found himself relieved to be closing. No more effort for the day, he thought. Nothing else but dinner and sweet, sweet oblivion again. Maybe then he could forget all the, admittedly, horrible words he had thrown at a person, at Patton. Even Logan didn’t want to be perceived as cruel.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave a comment!


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